story starts

Poster for the 1950 B-Movie, "Deadly Is The Female"

{ The beginning of this story came to mind after a vacation with my wife in September of 2015 in western Virginia, our first vacation in maybe 15 years. The time off reinvigorated my creative soul. What prompted the story? Not sure. I do know that I penned most of this on the day after the Columbus Day mentioned at the start. I think the impetus for the story was to write some dark comedic humor for a mystery or, more probably, a crime fiction story. I think some of the dialogue is hilarious, and some of my best writing. Actually, my wife thinks it’s one of my best starts ever, but she’s sort of biased in her opinion. This also a revision, dating to August 2016. }

© 2016+ Craig S. Hartranft (Usual caveats apply: this a rough draft, complete with spelling errors and grammar issues.)

On Monday October 12, it was Columbus Day and the day after her second wedding anniversary, Missy Aldritch killed her husband George, giving him a gut shot with her Sig Sauer and then a bullet to the head when he wouldn’t stop moaning and whining and asking why.

Missy didn’t know why. She really wasn’t good at why. Finding out why. Or wondering why. He just wouldn’t shut up.

Shooting George on that cool overcast morning seemed the best thing to do. He had the day off, all day. He had two plans that day. One was sleeping in, the other was detailing his 2014 Ford F-150 pick up truck.

Christ. Missy hated that thing. A silver behemoth that George drove one mile, total, back and forth each day to work. One half mile each way. Geez. He could have walked, worked off that damn beer gut he was developing.

Maybe that was the why. That fucking truck.

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On Columbus Day, Missy Aldritch Killed Her Husband George: The start to a crime fiction tale with dark comedic overtones.

26 July 2016 Crime Fiction

On Monday October 12, it was Columbus Day, and the day after her second wedding anniversary, Missy Aldritch killed her husband George, giving him a gut shot with her Sig Sauer and then a bullet to the head when he wouldn’t stop moaning and whining and asking why. Missy didn’t know why. She really wasn’t good at why. Finding out why. Or wondering why. He just wouldn’t shut up.

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