Love, Murder, & Romance~ Christopher M. Palmer’s Ending

Part 1

 

She managed to collect herself enough to answer. “Three or four years.”

“Well, it doesn’t seem that we have much of a mystery here. She was obviously involved with him for some time and it appears he was killed in a jealous rage.” Batson was a local and he seemed to know which side his bread was buttered on. “There will be an inquest, of course, but, the way I see it, the facts are rather cut and dried.”

Beatrice dared hope that he was playing along. Surely he couldn’t be so dim as to believe that was all there was to it. She resumed dabbing her tear-filled eyes, but her sobbing subsided. “I can’t believe it. She always was his favorite and I’ve never had reason to suspect anything untoward going on between them.”

“Yes, well. I’m sorry for your loss, Lady Beatrice. I will take my leave to deal with the county authorities and you will have your obligations to handle as well. I’m truly sorry for your loss.” He rose to go.

Beatrice took his hand, but didn’t dare look him in the eye, yet. “Thank you, Constable. It’s going to be hard, but I’m heartened to hear that the family won’t be dragged through the mud with this.”

“As you say, Lady Beatrice.”

Batson really was a handsome man. Perhaps after a suitable period of mourning, she would have him over for tea.

 

End

 

Like Christopher M. Palmer’s Ending best?  Let him know in the comments below? 

Want more? See Patrick O’Kelley’s Ending or Jessica Donegan’s Ending

Love, Murder, & Romance~ Jessica Donegan’s Ending

Part 1

 

“Ms. Anges tends to those new to the manor.  She administered me as a child, but her allegiance transferred to Henry when he came to live here some years ago,” Beatrice swipes at her tears.  Batson offers her a handkerchief.  She nods her thanks and  cleans her face.  Murder and Suicide, such a messy business.  Beatrice must strive to avoid it.  

Batson considers Beatrice.  The whole affair is highly unusual.  There hasn’t been a murder in one of the large manor houses in many generations.  Such atrocities are left to the lower end streets.  Everything about this place seems a little off, but some things are clear.  The murder was an impetuous  act of emotion.  Anger, passion, lust, Batson has seen them all.  It would be convenient if he could wrap both deaths up and return to his usual more comfortable beat.  But something about that solution seemed too simple.  

“Did Sir Lochley have any enemies?” Batson asks, working on a hunch.

“Henry was always a kind, bright man.  He carried a compliment on his lips for everyone he met.  And he’s retired from any business dealings years ago,” Beatrice adds.  

Batson nods but his face drops.

“Thank you Miss Lochley, I believe I can proceed from here on my own,” Batson says.  

“So soon?  Of course Captain, please let me know if there’s anything I offer you to help,” Beatrice murmurs, eyes downcast.  Her lip twitches but she wills the errant smile to stay clean off her face.  

Batson takes her hand, it’s forward, but he’s compelled to reassure her.  

“We will find who did this to Sir Lochley and we will bring them to justice,” he swears.  

Beatrice nods and allows a single tear to roll down her cheek.  

“I have complete confidence in your ability Captain.”

Batson shifts under her gaze.  He wishes he had the same belief.  At least the serving woman’s suicide gives him a culprit to pin it on, if all else fails.  He should interview the rest of the staff, ensure Miss Beatrice’s safety first.  That she’s still alive and unharmed suggests the killer had no ill intent towards her, a jilted lover perhaps?  But no, people of this station don’t commit crimes of this magnitude over base emotions like jealousy and they have no need of money.  It will be a baffling case.  

“You should eat and get rest Miss Lochley, recuperate your strength,” Batson encourages.  

“Thank you Captain, but I fear I can’t rest right now.  Perhaps a walk in the garden to calm my nerves if you think it’s safe?”

“Madam, we’d have left immediately if there was any indication of danger.”  

Beatrice dips into a small curtsey.  She leaves the gore behind and walks into the rising dawn light.  Her mind wanders over the past day, replaying her kill and all the events since.

Before long, Beatrice is at the decorative Greek temple.  She stares at the lamps on either side.  Grandfather, spared no expense when he commissioned it.  Footfalls echo across the marble entryway.  She walks to the inner sanctum and kneels before a statue of Hera.  

An odd choice, Beatrice thought.  Of all the gods, Grandfather could choose, Hera seems underwhelming.  A Goddess often proclaimed powerful but rarely seen in action.  And what good did her strength ever do her?  She, like all the rest, submits to Zeus’ might.  

Warm mass presses against Beatrice’s hands, arms, shoulders, and head.  If forced to describe, Beatrice would claim it was like a person wrapping themselves around her and making her support their weight.  But Beatrice is alone and instead of the force pressing externally, this pressure comes from within rising out of her.  The strangeness passes into a kind of terror, it’s like her soul is leaving her body.  She wants to run but an external force is heavy on her brain, willing her remaining kneeling.  Beatrice’s body trembles with exertion.  

“Just wait, it will be over in a moment little one,” a feminine voice echoes.  

Beatrice believes it’s meant to be comforting, but the whole process is too unsettling such a simple salve.  What’s worse, why are these sensations almost familiar?  Like a mirror reverse of something that happened weeks ago.  Beatrice struggles to pull the thought closer, but it’s not forthcoming.

“There, that’s better isn’t it,” the voice soothes.  

She’s right.  The warm weight retreats and Beatrice is on her own.  She collapses before Hera’s statue, a trembling mass.  But for all her bodily troubles, Beatrice’s mind is clear for the first time in months.  

“I must thank you for the ride.  It’s always cathartic to help women murder their tyrants that dare to name themselves Husband.”

Flashes are coming back to Beatrice. She’d planned to remove this temple, but they told her the cost out of her budget.  She settled on removing Hera’s statue.  When questioned, Beatrice explained she didn’t want to look at a statue that reminds her of her own bondage.  Beatrice didn’t deign to explain how a woman might view an arranged marriage.  How Herny wanted her, but she never had the chance to feel the same desire.  Those details were for Beatrice’s heart alone.  A bout of dizziness befell her, and then the next weeks are a fog.  

Henry!  He’s gone, murdered with her hands, though not her will.  Never her will.  Beatrice didn’t get to choose to marry him, it was a sick parallel, she didn’t get to choose to murder him either.

“You,” Beatrice stammered.

“I did you a favor, child.  He limited you.  Gave you an allowance that kept you leashed to him like a dog when this estate comes from your family.  With my strength, my power, I freed you.  Your indecision, your resentment, your compromised soul none of it was a match for me.”

Beatrice flushes.  There is part of her that’s enticed by Hera’s claims.  Uncertain if the cost if worth the gain, Beatrice hesitates.  

“You have time and space to learn what a great gift I gave you.”

The nod is slow and tear filled.  Her large bed empty and cold fills Beatrice with loneliness, there is no way to go but forward.

“Thank you,” she whispers, bowing low.  

“I do not require thanks, I require work.  Bring me a pair of peacocks I may observe in the gardens, and fresh laurel every full moon.  Do this and I will bless your home and make you powerful within it.”  

Beatrice nods, she need not hear about what could happen if she refuses.  Hera’s possession offers a myriad of tragedies to her quick mind.  She picks herself up off the ground and heads to the exit.  

“And Beatrice,” the voice calls, “never again question my strength or plan to remove me from this place.  I will make your current loss look like a child’s punishment if you cross me again.”

Beatrice’s blood stalls even as her heart pounds.  She flees the temple, and runs mindless through her gardens, falling to one of the many benches.  As she sits in the warm sun, she cries over her foolish words and careless thoughts.  The world is full of strange and horrible consequences.

End

Like Jessica’s ending the best? Comment below to let her know! 

Want more?  See Patrick O’Kelley’s Ending or Christopher M. Palmer’s Ending

All About Writers’ Group Round Robin

image from openclipart.org by oksmith

 

What is it? 

The Blitz Round Robin is a work we create in our meeting.  We pick a random theme, choose a member to start us off, and they have to write for fifteen minutes.  After time is up, the next member gets a chance to read the work and then they have fifteen minutes to write.  We do this until all of us have a chance to write.

Why?  

There’s a lot of reasons to do this exercise.  For our group the primary reason is to encourage speed of production.  Generally, we are a group that spends too much time thinking or editing and not enough time pounding on computer keys.  But there are other reasons to participate

  1. It might jumpstart some creative juices
  2. The process offers unique challenges each of us struggles with in our personal writing and sometimes we try to trip the following writer up
  3. It provides writers a chance to collaborate and work together
  4. The Round Robin gives us a chance to complete something small while we toil with larger works
  5. The activity forces forward movement where all of us sometimes linger our own projects to languish in interia
  6. Since we’ve decided to publish the final products to our blog, these activities give us a chance for publication and perhaps create an audience for our personal style.

Hear From the Group:

The round robin is a great opportunity for me to develop speed in my writing.  The group challenges everyone to write the other in a corner, to call back to an early passage or develop and introduce new character on the fly.  I believe we all hone spontaneity and versatility every time we slam on the keys.”- Zach Stanfield.

For me, the round robin is all about collaborative writing and melding four distinct styles into a coherent story.  I enjoy seeing all my fellows’ contributions and moving the story forward with my personal flare.  The best part comes after the exercise, when we edit.  It’s inspiring to see a work created to try and make each of us fumble transform into a story in which I can’t tell where one writer’s words ended and another’s began.” -Jessica Donegan

The round robin provides me with an opportunity to practice on thinking on my feet when it comes to having an idea and throwing it on the page. A lot of times I have an awesome idea that I start but falter two paragraphs in. The round robin also creates a accountability to get something down. Plus, I love coming in where someone left off and going crazy with the story. Painting someone in a corner can be fun as well.” – Patrick O’Kelley

Where to Go From Here: 

We will publish our first group round robin.  Since the work was not completed during the exercise, we each decided to add our own alternate ending.  I, personally, am beyond thrilled to post the work and hope all our readers are able to enjoy some quick, fun stories!

Want to Read our First Round Robin?  Check our Murder Love and Romance for our beginning with Christopher M. Palmer’s ending, Patrick Jospeph O’Kelly’s ending, and Jessica Donegan’s ending all available.

February Roundup: Calls for Submissions

First, few caveats.  I did not include any publisher who asked for a reading fee.  I also didn’t include grants, contests, or publishing offers that were region locked to an area outside of Northern Alabama.

 

What I did include were all publishing offers I could find that I thought may have appeal to any current members of our writing group.  That said, some of the calls for submissions seems like they may be less stable or professional than other markets.  I did try to exclude anything that appeared like an obvious vanity press, but there are some calls here I wouldn’t submit to.  Use your own discretion.

 

Due Feb 15th 

 

Deciduous Tales– “We are looking for horror and dark fiction with well realized characters, a strong voice and literary merit between 1000 and 5000 words. Query first for any story longer than 5000 words.”

 

Due Feb 16th

 

Black Button– 2000-6000 words midwestern themed horror and dark fiction.  Integrate family dynamics.

 

Due Feb 28th 

 

Dark House Books– Has 2 calls!  one is a 2500-5000 words cozy to cozy-noir stories featuring libraries and librarians the OTHER poetry, flash, short fiction, and creative nonfiction reflecting the theme of sanctuary, refuge, shelter, or asylum, from the perspective of those offering, seeking, denying, or destroying it. From Bangladesh to the city animal shelter, all are welcome, as are all genres.

 

Red Rabbit Press– 3000-6000 words military scifi

 

Parsec Ink– 5000 words on music in fantasy, horror or scifi

 

Beneath the Waves– 5000-8000 words on water/ transformation/ sea monsters

 

Nafarian– 2500-5000 crimes with a twist

 

Due March 1st 

 

If This Goes On– up to 5000 words at least 1 generation in the future but further out is preferred and it needs to relate to current political issues $.08/word

 

Body Parts Magazine– Flash up to 1000 AND short stories up to 8000 words theme is “primal fears” looking for horror, dark fairy tales

 

“This Book Is Cursed“- Up to 7,500 words the theme is “this book is cursed” includes tombs, theater curses, sports curses random vengeance curses

 

Hex Gunslinger–  1000-1500 flash, 1001-7499 short story, 7,500-17,499 novellette and 17,500- 40,000 novella speculative, mysterious, and romantic weird western tall tales! Framed as an unearthed secret library years after the civil war, each story should hold the ethos of western expansion beginning in 1803 with the Louisiana Purchase, and ending around the 1850s not necessarily restricted to a North American audience. Do not take manifest destiny as a mantra to live by. Shape a world with all the magic and mystery of the frontier without letting the ugliness of conquest be consumed with fantastic whimsy. We want wide open plains where violence ruled, underground movements brewing with tension, and the Wild Wild West in all it’s beauty and madness. Bring us your stories marking the age of the gold rush, injustice, genocide, mass immigration, transcontinental railroads, vigilante justice, telegraphs, outlaws, gunslingers, slick talkers, setting suns, and the impending civil war that would rip a nation apart.  They want Pulp fiction, Weird Western, Cattlepunk, Southern Gothic, Folkloric Monsters, Occult Magick, Slipstream, Cowboys & Aliens, and so on

 

Baba Yaga Anthology– 7,500-20,000 words. Kate is looking for stories from Baba Yaga’s point of view, or the point of view from those she helps or hurts, or from anyone who might be a protagonist worthy of the Baba Yaga story. You can set the story in the past or present. The story can take place anywhere in the world. It can include romance or action or tragedy or comedy.

 

Dark Water Syndicate– 5000-8000 words “We are interested in short horror fiction about people who sneak into abandoned, forgotten, shunned, or cursed communities and survive to tell the tale. For example: Centralia, Pennsylvania—the mining town abandoned because of an uncontrollable underground coal fire; Love Canal—the New York neighborhood declared off-limits due to extreme environmental pollution; and Pripyat—the Ukrainian city evacuated after the Chernobyl disaster. The emphasis is on communities—a haunted house or other such localized place is not large enough to qualify. The place or people in your story must be fiction, must be told in 1st person and must be a present day adventure

 

Horror Short Story Contest– “Entries must be 2000 words or less, typed in 12 point Times New Roman and include your name, age, and contact information.”