| Mystery and Crime Fiction posted March 31, 2017 |
  |
Flash fiction. First line required
The Closing of More Than One Door
by frogbook
The Door Slammed Contest Winner
The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.
The door slammed, echoing down the long hall. So, this was it. I really was here to stay. I looked at the long shadows cast by the bars and felt no real emotion. I knew I might end up here, and it was worth the price.
My daughter was a joyful, energetic twelve-year-old. She never met a person (or a dog) she didn't love. Unfortunately, that very quality may have led to her demise.
We lived in a "safe" neighborhood. All the kids played outside almost constantly. They were all friends and there were surprisingly few arguments. They even watched out for each other. That was one of the reasons my daughter disappearing was so painful. Why didn't anyone see what happened? Where were her 'protectors'?
The police always surprised me. How did they follow the smallest clue to a criminal? They actually caught so many people.... even him.
The cigarette dropped by my daughter's body was enough to get the DNA, to find this four-time-convicted pig.
The other side of the coin is, the police find them, but the justice system stops there, it seems to me. Why does a person who has hurt children four times end up on the streets? How can a lawyer even defend this kind of scum?
These were questions, I didn't contemplate long after my precious girl's, mutilated and molested body was found.
I attended the first court hearing, and so did my newly acquired firearm. It was so easy to get. People said I was afraid and felt I needed protection after my daughter was murdered. No, I didn't. I needed revenge.
So, at the first hearing, before he could be allowed to be excused for his actions again, I took my action. I had done well in the marksmanship classes, only had to go to two, to aim at the body part that was so valuable to this pervert. The second shot severed his femoral artery, and despite paramedics trying to save the filthy pervert, he bled to death, looking into the eyes of a mother wronged.
So, every day when this heavy iron door closes, I have only to think of the fear I saw in his eyes, and the flames that
will forever consume him. My cell isn't so bad.
The door slammed, echoing down the long hall. So, this was it. I really was here to stay. I looked at the long shadows cast by the bars and felt no real emotion. I knew I might end up here, and it was worth the price.
My daughter was a joyful, energetic twelve-year-old. She never met a person (or a dog) she didn't love. Unfortunately, that very quality may have led to her demise.
We lived in a "safe" neighborhood. All the kids played outside almost constantly. They were all friends and there were surprisingly few arguments. They even watched out for each other. That was one of the reasons my daughter disappearing was so painful. Why didn't anyone see what happened? Where were her 'protectors'?
The police always surprised me. How did they follow the smallest clue to a criminal? They actually caught so many people.... even him.
The cigarette dropped by my daughter's body was enough to get the DNA, to find this four-time-convicted pig.
The other side of the coin is, the police find them, but the justice system stops there, it seems to me. Why does a person who has hurt children four times end up on the streets? How can a lawyer even defend this kind of scum?
These were questions, I didn't contemplate long after my precious girl's, mutilated and molested body was found.
I attended the first court hearing, and so did my newly acquired firearm. It was so easy to get. People said I was afraid and felt I needed protection after my daughter was murdered. No, I didn't. I needed revenge.
So, at the first hearing, before he could be allowed to be excused for his actions again, I took my action. I had done well in the marksmanship classes, only had to go to two, to aim at the body part that was so valuable to this pervert. The second shot severed his femoral artery, and despite paramedics trying to save the filthy pervert, he bled to death, looking into the eyes of a mother wronged.
So, every day when this heavy iron door closes, I have only to think of the fear I saw in his eyes, and the flames that
will forever consume him. My cell isn't so bad.
|
Writing Prompt Write a story that starts with this sentence: The door slammed, echoing down the long hall.. The catch is this must be flash fiction. So the story should be between 100 and 1,000 words. |
The Door Slammed Contest Winner |
Fiction.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. 
You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.
© Copyright 2024. frogbook All rights reserved.
frogbook has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
