Cracked Glasses

The aging writer clacks at her typewriter, nervously, as she composes her final chapter. With a shaking hand from too little sleep lately, she grasps the handle of the teacup her maid brought in hours before. It is gone in a second, and the writer feels a peculiar pain. With a gasp, she chokes and dies. The arsenic...it was in the tea... A possible masterpiece is left unfinished, as broken as her cracked glasses on the tile floor.

(78)

Hated Author

Clack, clack, clack, the typewriter responds under the writer's fingers. With a smirk, she rereads what she has typed. She knew her publisher would say that last line was offensive, but she found it funny. She resumes typing. Just at the conclusion of the sentence, the doorbell of her flat rings. Startled, she goes to the door, opening it. Too late she realizes that the man outside is armed...BANG.

Be wary of your tread when you write. Your readers might take drastic action against you.

(85)

Idyllic Night

A girl wanders down an empty country road. She hugs herself to keep warm against the breeze. The moon smiles above. The cherry blossoms in the orchards nearby scent the air. Nothing can harm her here...or so she thinks until the discharge of a hunting rifle pierces her side.

(49)