Disclaimer: If I owned the damn thing then I wouldn't be writing this.
This is just a short little murder fiction that I'm writing because I'm bored. Nothing much. Just a gory little fiction about death and a crazy person. Please don't stone me for "out of character" because at this point I don't really give a damn. Leave me alone, I'm depressed, I need sunflower seeds. Hopefully I can pass this depression by shoving it along to my readers. .
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Pain and blood. Sorrow and hate. Facts of life, all of them. There is no way around it for we feel all of them. Cliff felt these things right now. Alls he had ever wanted was to have a good job, and a steady relationship with Ann. Now it was all ruined. Crushed to dust in a thousand pieces, never to be gathered again for as long as he lived. And why?
It was all because of him. It was Jack. He had to come waltzing in. With his money, his farm, his assets. How was he going to compete with a successful farmer?
It was simple, he couldn't. And so now Cliff was standing over a body. The strong, masculine, and well-muscled body of a man who had come and taken over. Nothing wrong with taking over, the best man to win right?
With Cliff that was what was wrong. Who just was this farmer Jack that allowed him to come and move in on Ann? To give her the blue feather? To have her accept?
"She loved me, she always loved me." Cliff growled through clenched teeth. "AND IT'S YOUR FALT THAT YOU'RE NOW DEAD!" He spat, kicking the corpse in its side. The side that was gored from a wide hatchet wound.
It had been a simple wait to inflict that wound. Just stay until Jack went to bed. Then ambush him while he's sleeping. It was easy for Cliff. He hated Jack for everything he had done. But most of all for taking Ann. Now that Ann's fiancé was dead, she would come back to him. They would be together once again.
That was the way life was to work out. They were meant to be.
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Cliff dragged the body out of the farmhouse door. Its head making a thudding sound as it fell down the porch steps. There was a distinct trail of blood, but no matter. No one would suspect Cliff. Gentle, quiet Cliff couldn't hurt a fly. It didn't matter who found out. He struggled to haul the body over to the pond. A simple dump. But he didn't even know why he dicided to put it in the pond. It was obvious Jack didn't die of a drowning.
Cliff smiled. It would still look cool.
With a grunt he shoved the body off the shore. Yeah, it did look cool. The body just floating there, face down.
Cliff threw the hatchet aside. It was time to visit Ann.
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Oh my, whatever will happen next? I feel a little better now. The chapters are short, but I don't care. It's just a short story. Hope you actually have some interest in what will happen. Be sure to REVIEW!
Until next time:
K. W. Lycan