3WW - Content Warning

It's time for another 3 Word Wednesday. The prompts this week were: Flirt, Ploy and Stunning.

I'm still trying to let my "hero" finish his story and get revenge. I think this is going to have to be the next to last installment for him. He's very dark, and way too obsessed. This weeks clip is a little more explicit, but he's very close to the killer. Don't read this if you are offended easily, please. Otherwise, enjoy at your own risk.


He watched the working girl flirt for over an hour before the one he was looking for showed up. Not a stunning girl by any means, life on the streets sucked all the pretty out of her a long time ago.

The longer he watched, though, the more attractive she got. He knew his obsession was going to kill him, but what did he have to live for anyway?

His precious little wife had moved on and was screwing her divorce lawyer, and his two kids couldn’t wait to leave when he had them on his bi-weekly visits. They hid in their rooms playing video games and on the phone, and at 6:00 on Sunday would be waiting by the door, crap packed in their suitcases, ready to go back to grandma’s house.

Life sucked at this point. But watching the prostitute flash her saggy breasts and offer dates to anonymous men for a few bucks, and finding it a turn on, made him realize just how low he’d sunk. Her ploy wasn’t even that great. Flash them some T & A and expect them to cough up the money, but by the sheer number of trips around the block to the alley she made, he knew she must be doing pretty good. He wondered what she considered a good night. Twenty tricks? Fifty?

He’d been talking to the girl for a few weeks now. She’d been in the park. She’d seen the sick son of a bitch rape and kill his sister and had been too scared to do anything about it. He’d wanted to kill her, but couldn’t bring himself to wring her scrawny little neck. So, they worked out a deal. He’d watch her at night and if the guy showed back up she’d give him a signal – drop her purse and let all of the condoms fall on the ground. He thought it was stupid, but couldn’t come up with a better idea. She’d seen it on an episode of Cops.

As soon as the dark sedan pulled up, her purse hit the ground. Gold wrapped Trojans and flavored Lifestyles littered the sidewalk, and her eyes were wide with panic. Still, he waited until she picked up all her party favors and got in the car with the psycho bastard. He was probably letting her screw her way to a death sentence but he didn’t care at this point.

The engine in his twenty year old Toyota coughed and sputtered to life before he pulled into traffic and followed the dark sedan. What the hell was he doing? He had a degree in accounting for Christ’s sake. He wasn’t a cop. He wasn’t a P.I., but here he was following the man who had probably killed his sister and the prostitute that had given him a blow job to save her own life.

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3WW

Today's words, furnished by 3WW were: Cajole, temper and recluse. I chose to do a continuation of last week's 3WW. It is dark too.

The pain, the rage, the guilt – it ate at his soul. Night after night, he rambled through the park. Seeking out the recluses hidden in deep, dark places. Cardboard surrounded barrels of fire. The smell of wasted hope and unfulfilled dreams suffocating in the black pool of despair. Pieces of his soul withered and died every time these unseen people denied him entrance. They tempered refusal with sorrow, but none of that helped him. He had to find the refuse of humanity that had taken his sister. The scrap of a man that had spoiled the one spark of light left in his life. He tried to cajole the dismal outsiders into giving him any hint of where the murderer had gone. When that didn’t work, he flashed the burnished chrome-plated Smith and Wesson. The effort was futile – they’d scattered like fragments of a nightmare, scurrying off to dark corners. The police wouldn’t help him, vigilante justice was beneath them. The hidden society of humanity, living on castoffs of society wouldn’t help him, he wasn’t of their community. So, he walked, and searched, and screamed wordlessly at the night, anguish coating the sound. He’d take care of the murdering bastard. Then, he’d take care of the source of his torment.

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Its Been Three Weeks

Three whole weeks since I blogged. Sorry. It's been a tough few weeks too.

I went to read for a new critique group on Monday the 6th. Great people, all of them. Karin keeps me motivated and Travis keeps reminding me that yes, it's hard, but worth it. So, anyway, to be polite I left my cell phone in Karin's car so that I didn't get a phone call and interrupt the group. My hubby knew I was with Karin, but since I didn't know where we were going, I didn't tell him.

About 8:30 the group broke up and Karin and I headed out. I pulled my handy-dandy cell phone out of my purse and saw that I had 29 missed calls. Surely, something had to be wrong with my phone. Maybe it was registering all the missed calls I'd had for, oh, the last year. The evil thing rang almost immediately. Karin and I were laughing and joking when I answered. It was my mother. Screaming at me.

She was in South Carolina, taking care of my grandfather who was very ill. My dad had been in a serious accident on his way home from work (at around 6:30). The 29 missed calls were from all of our family and friends who couldn't find me to rush to the hospital to take care of my dad. My mom was in another state, both of my brothers were hours away. Thank God, one of my parents' friends went to my house, got my hubby and took him to the hospital to stay with dad.

Needless to say, even though I am a trained Emergency Medical Technician, I FREAKED OUT. This is my dad we're talking about people! So, rushed to the Emergency Room, took care of my dad - waking him every hour, keeping up with his pain pills, etc., until mom could fly back in from South Carolina. That was last Monday.


On Wednesday, I found out that my brother-in-law and his wife are pregnant. Now, for a rational adult that would be wonderful news. For me, not so much. If you know me, you know I can't procreate. Hubby and I are looking into the foster/adopt program, but it all takes time. Lots of really crappy emotions are involved in all that, and I get really down when I think about it. So, not a good day there, either. (Why is everyone pregnant right now, by the way? I swear it must be in the water.)

Then, Fateful Friday. It had been a really long week with little or no sleep on most nights. My mom called and noon. My grandfather had passed away. Now, I'd held it together the whole week. Didn't cry, didn't blow up at anyone. If I was pissed or scared or depressed, I just bluffed my way through it. She called me at work and I couldn't shut the flood gates. I quietly snuck past my co-workers to the bathroom and tried to calm down and pull myself together. That didn't work, so I went outside and smoked (I know, I know, I'm really trying to quit, but sometimes... ya know.), that didn't work. I was headed back to my office (okay, so it is a cubicle) and my boss stopped me and asked if I was all right. I lost it. I started crying and couldn't stop. He just looked at me and said, "Just go home. We'll deal with it Monday." So, I did.

This week I have been trying to recover, and so far, so good. The fun news is that I have to go and get drunk at the police station tonight, then tomorrow morning they are giving me a gun with live ammo to shoot... You'd think they were smarter than that, LOL!

I hope you all have a great weekend and I will try to get better at this whole blogging thing! Lots of love!