Murder on the Train ♡ 101 FLASH FICTION PROMPTS
Friday, 25 May 2018
Prompt #1) Imagine you are on a train or at a train station when a murder takes place. Expand upon this scenario by writing a story of 500 words or fewer.
Police surround a lifeless corpse. I saw everything but don't stammer a breath. He's watching!
Nearby, closer than police suspect sits the knife holder. The murderer. Dark wrinkled eyes, grey hair, a large protruding belly and a carefully composed expression mastered from years upon years of practice. My Grandmother. Yes, my grandmother just murdered a man and he's watching me through vacant eyes, staring deeply into mine which are larger than any satellite dish.
I realised quite quickly that my Bambi expression made me look very guilty indeed so I imagined what I planned to cook for supper in an attempt to calm myself but appear more puzzled to the policeman's gaze.
My Grandmother tuts lightly by my side and stifles a cough that could easily draw attention our way. I flashed her a frustrated glare. The train compartment is suddenly chilly with a heavy stench of guilt and I mentally prepare myself for questions to which I had no answer.
The string of diamonds around Grandma Petra's neck rattle as she muffles another cough. Or was it a chuckle? I couldn't tell. I saw my reflection in a mirror hung on the wall of our compartment and straighten my elegant tie, trying not to glance at the bright crimson stain on the leg of my white bell-bottoms.
Grandma Petra is a complicated woman, rich for reasons she doesn't like to discuss. I agreed to accompany her on what was pitched to me as a relaxing Parisian getaway, all expenses paid. It was all wonderful, until... Everything happen so suddenly. It was 6pm. The bar had recently opened so I'd changed into my evening attire and said goodnight to Grandma who'd been reading a newspaper in our compartment when I'd originally tried to leave her.
An attendant opened our door, causing my body to shiver at the draft. He asked if we needed anything, Grandma dismissed him. I kissed her grey hair, turned to leave and was swatted at by a pair of strong arms bustling through the door. The intruder and my Grandmother exchanged a look and the next thing I saw was a sharp black blade, a dagger plunging through flesh and bone into the anonymous chest.
My Grandmothers gloved hands threw open the window and chucked the weapon into midair. It ricocheted off the tracks. Window closed, she approached me and with a violet heel crushed several of my toes. I screamed, alerting the attendant.
Which brings us back to the present. The lifeless corpse, my held breath and visage of guilt.
Thanks for reading,
Thanks for reading,