Category: fiction

The Red Journal – Shots in the Dark

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Need a recap? Please visit The Red/Black Journal Page

Friday, 11:50 P.M.

Officer Dusty Salad had been given strict orders to bring Detective Sarah Wilson directly home after the Burnside Country Club investigation wrapped up. No stops, no detours, just straight to 126 Maple Road. The address of Detective Ethan Frost and his wife Susan. Only, Officer Salad was not following the orders he was given. He was not on his way to 126 Maple Road. No instead, instead, he was driving his police cruiser in the opposite direction. And, in two short minutes, with the key party to those orders in the backseat, would be pulling up to Lochlan’s Pub. A bar located a few short blocks from the precinct that catered mostly to cops. It was the perfect place to blow off a little law enforcement steam and a place Sarah was a regular.

Continue reading “The Red Journal – Shots in the Dark” →

James Harbour

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Chapter One

It’s Been Addressed

The town of James Harbour was only a few short kilometers up ahead. Jake Fox, a police detective, travelling from the mainland, was hoping his assumptions were correct. This narrowing of the main road had to mean the god-forsaken bus ride would soon be over. It had to. For the four-hour ferry trip and the longest eight-hour drive ever from where the ferry finally landed him ashore had finally taken its toll. His whole body ached, and his neck made a crunching noise as he tilted it slightly to look out the tiny window next to him. Now, he was beginning to realize how remote this community was going to be. A complete contrast to the big city he just left behind. ‘Geez, can you believe people choose to live here?’ He mumbles under his breath. Jake Surveys the landscape some more. He couldn’t deny the beauty of the place. Snow-capped rolling hills, and rugged unforgiving mountains sheltered the tiny hamlet on three landlocked sides. Everything protected from the mood swings of mother nature. The picturesque backdrops he was starting to enjoy suddenly changed. They quickly went from the perfect desktop screensaver to a hillside you would see in Mordor from the Lord of the Rings. The Greyhound bus had begun its descent down a steep winding road. On the left, ice walls and cold black jagged stone. On the right, a thousand foot drop to the Atlantic ocean and some more cold black jagged stone. The further down, the more barren the place became. Jake’s grip got tighter. He looked straight ahead and at the very end of the road, he could barely start to make out what looked like a sign.

Continue reading “James Harbour” →

Story Jots # 6 – Peephole Under the Stairs

Honey, have you met our neighbour?
 
What? 

Our neighbour. The guy across from us in the adjoining apartment. Have you met him?
 
Ah…no, I don’t think so. Why? 

Oh, nothing. I was just thinking today about how strange it is that we’ve been in our new place for three months now, and the both of us have yet to lay a single eye on him. Don’t you think that’s a tad odd?
 
No, not really. Maybe this guy likes keeping to himself. He could work awkward hours or something.
  
Yeah, I guess. But you would think we would have seen him coming or going at some point. His door closing here or there. 

Baby, you are being weird. Who cares? Look, I am completely cool with not getting to know our neighbours. I hate those annoying stop and talks. Besides, shit’s tangly when people get too all up in your business. That’s the whole reason we moved. We hate people remember. 

All I am saying is that I find it odd. I haven’t seen him in the laundry room, I am there pretty much every day. Both of us check the communal mailboxes, no sign of him there either and his mailbox is right next to ours. Plus, it is not only his door, but I also never hear anything coming from his apartment. Nothing. It is always so quiet over there. And, I am not weird. There was no need to call me that. You are being mean. 

Continue reading “Story Jots # 6 – Peephole Under the Stairs” →

Story Jots # 4 – Where is Danny Champagne?

Photo by Vijay Putra on Pexels.com

Go ahead, tell me one more time that you don’t know where he is, and I am pulling this trigger. I’m tired of games. You know, it’s actually convenient you wearing that mask. Now I won’t risk getting too much of your ugly face all over my new black marble floor. My wife hates when I do stuff like that. She’ll be pissed if she finds out I brought my work home. Only, this time she won’t be too hard on me. Because you my friend, were stupid enough to come here on your own free will. This is sort of like delivery for me. What the hell were thinking coming to my house anyway? To my private masquerade party? Then, have the nerve to drink my expensive booze and hit on my ladies. They are all on my clock you know? You got some balls, kids. I will give you that. OK, cut the bullshit. Where is Danny Champagne?

Continue reading “Story Jots # 4 – Where is Danny Champagne?” →

Story Jots # 5 – Serial Number

Photo by ArtHouse Studio on Pexels.com

The body was easy to move from the place to the car to the boat. As it always is. Premeditation is kind of my thing. I have done this same routine maybe a hundred times. No, I believe it is a hundred and six times. Yeah, a hundred and six. You know, blondes are my favourite of all the women. Slightly more gullible. Usually more attractive. All of them walking by themselves late at night. Coming from their restaurant shifts, drunken bachelorette parties, or on their way to an ex-boyfriend. Then, I would present myself to these tired, these tipsy, and these texting specimens. Most nights, it is an unlit cigarette in poor lighting that works effortlessly. Cliché I know. Although, there were times I would fake a bleeding lip on this fragile face of mine. It was easy with these ladies the way I look. Always so helpful they are. But now I am bored. Unmotivated. No more of this killing racket. I am done. Finished. The girls just do not seem to fight back anymore anyway. Shall I leave a clue? Maybe allow one to getaway? Hmmm. Better yet! How about this one? Number 107. I mean, after all of that and you, my pretty blonde lady…are still breathing.

Fiction From A Photo – She Has No Past, You Have No Future # 1

Photo by Oleg Magni on Pexels.com

Hey everybody,
I’m going to get straight to it. This category is something I have been playing around with for a while now. The premise is I will take a photo I’ve found somewhere and draw whatever inspiration I can from it and write a short, maybe long story from it. Plus, I would like to offer the same opportunity to anyone who wants to follow my lead and use both the photo and/or story title as a prompt. I would love to see examples of other forms of inspiration. It doesn’t have to be a story either. It could be anything from a story, a poem, a song, anything your heart desires.

OK, here’s the beginning of this one for me. I have a few chapters done of this prompt, only I was too excited and reacted. I went with the moment and posted. #amwriting

Don’t forget to tell me what you think in the comments, and let’s see where this goes.

Enjoy!!!

SHE HAS NO PAST, YOU HAVE NO FUTURE # 1

By: Ash Douglas 

Marcus, get up! Come on. It’s not funny.
We have to go.
Do you realize I needed to be home fifteen minutes ago? Not cool.
You know, I’m going to be in deep shit again.
My Uncle is going to kill me for sure this time. 
Marcus?

Continue reading “Fiction From A Photo – She Has No Past, You Have No Future # 1” →

Story Jot # 3 – Dark Twins

Yeah, that’s right, you heard me. There are two of them. Identical, except one of girls has a wound over her left collarbone, she’s been shot and now on foot. If we find and contain her first, we’ll have a better chance of drawing out the stronger one. She won’t risk another fight, her sister’s too injured. OK, we’re almost there, I need eyes trained on the treetops and more on that corn field over there. That’s her last known position. Stay sharp and remember, we don’t have a huge window to pull this off people. If the two of them are together for more than fifteen minutes, the wounded sister will heal. If that happens…God help us!

The Black Journal – (Take-Away)

Photo by Chan Walrus on Pexels.com

If not up to date, please visit The Red/Black Journal Page

Friday, 9:45 P.M.

Ethan’s driver-side door crunched and creaked as it slammed shut. He was home. Another long day of chasing a killer without so much as a single clue of who it might be. Zero answers, just more questions. Questions, that for now had to wait. The only thing on his mind was finally getting to see his beautiful wife, Susan. Take one look at her and no matter how bad of a day he was having, she’d quickly make all go away. A hot shower and some food wouldn’t go astray either.

Continue reading “The Black Journal – (Take-Away)” →