Flame (an acrostic poem)

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Fire climbing high into the sky

Lighting her eyes in a way that was magical

And the image made his heart skip a beat

Maybe that’s why it didn’t hurt as much

Even as the knife plunged deep into his chest

Clueless (an acrostic poem)

Clark studied the scene in front of him

Little things seemed out of place, but there was no smoking gun

Undeterred, he knew he would crack the case

Eventually, something would click

Leaving the perpetrator unmasked

Every murderer made a mistake, like leaving the murder weapon

Soon as Clark found it he would be one step closer

Sarah sighed when she had to point out the knife in the corpse’s back

 

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A Pleasing Aroma

The sun beat down from on high as Melvin selected a very crooked stick from the pile.  It fit how he felt that morning.  He turned it this way and that before nodding and sitting on the old stump.  The remains of the old oak tree fit his backside perfectly after a little wiggling to get comfortable.

He pulled out his eight-inch bowie knife and began to whittle.  He prided himself that he could slowly peel away the bark from tip to stern with one long stroke, turning the piece of wood a little at a time.  Soon the twig was naked.  He threw it on top of the shavings in front of him and picked up the next stick, sizing it up before doing the ritual once again.  The motions came quicker and more assured, the shakes that plagued him that morning seemingly evaporating under his meticulous gaze.

The sun waved goodbye as it lowered itself below the tree line.  Mabel would be home soon, wondering what Melvin had been doing all day. He chuckled as he pulled out his Zippo and flicked it to life.  Where he applied the fire the flame doubled, then tripled.  Soon his labor from that day was ablaze in glory, a burnt offering to his troubled soul.

As for Mabel, he would just make up the usual story about fishing or some such this way she wouldn’t worry herself none.  He put away his lighter, cleaned and sheathed his knife, and began to tunelessly whistle as he ambled home, the smoke swirling around him with its pleasing aroma.

 

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Halloween Anticipation (a 100 word story)

Francis sharpened his knife for like the twelfth time.  Tomorrow would be Halloween, and it would finally be his time.  It had taken him weeks of sacrifice to be ready.  His guests wouldn’t be expecting what he was planning.

Suddenly goosebumps caused his arm hairs to stand at attention.  He used the knife to trim them.  Yeah, it was sharp enough.  It would part flesh with ease.  He couldn’t wait to carve his way into infamy.

Francis put another brisket into the smoker and wondered if cutting into that would feel the same as…  Well, he would see tomorrow night.

 

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Turf (an acrostic poem)

The ball tumbled to the ground, forgotten for the moment

Under the garish yellow streetlights the batter still took a swing

Ravaging the Demon’s knife man’s rib cage with a sickening thud

Finally the contest was called on the account of sirens

 

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Last Chance (an acrostic poem)

Looking at what her choices were, she touched the cold steel behind her back

Ashley stripped off her most of her clothes and slipped into the lake

Shivers from the cold water caused her skin to pucker

Trembles continued down her arms as she began to swim for the dock

 

Charlie couldn’t believe his eyes

Here was his dream coming true

Ashley was coming to meet him, alone, on his terms

Not in his wildest fantasies did he think this would ever happen

Catching his first glimpse of her coming out of the water

Everything moved in slow motion as she stabbed him literally in the heart

 

 

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Foibles (an acrostic poem)

Feeling her way through the darkness

Olivia could feel her pulse quickening

If these walls could talk, they would be screaming murder right now

But silence was the only thing that was echoing in her ears

Losing herself here would not be a good idea with Justin chasing her

Even though Olivia really wanted to be caught

She shifted the grip on her chef’s knife and purposely made a noise