Thriller
 

Add up to three sentences at a time. Only real rule is that your sentence must move the story forward.

Seventeen minutes later, he knew he'd done it. A mischevious little smile puckered the corners of his mouth.

Seventeen minutes later, he knew he'd done it. A mischevious little smile puckered the corners of his mouth.

He'd done it. He'd pulled it off. She never saw it coming.

Seventeen minutes later, he knew he'd done it. A mischevious little smile puckered the corners of his mouth.

He'd done it. He'd pulled it off. She never saw it coming. And now he could do whatever he wanted.

He watched her chest rise and fall evenly. A tiny smear of blood on her sweatshirt tailed the W in S W O O S H.

Seventeen minutes later, he knew he'd done it. A mischevious little smile puckered the corners of his mouth.

He'd done it. He'd pulled it off. She never saw it coming. And now he could do whatever he wanted.

He watched her chest rise and fall evenly. A tiny smear of blood on her sweatshirt tailed the W in S W O O S H.

At least he hoped he'd done it this time. He was surprised when he saw that she had come back from the dead in the first place.

Seventeen minutes later, he knew he'd done it. A mischevious little smile puckered the corners of his mouth.

He'd done it. He'd pulled it off. She never saw it coming. And now he could do whatever he wanted.

He watched her chest rise and fall evenly. A tiny smear of blood on her sweatshirt tailed the W in S W O O S H.

At least he hoped he'd done it this time. He was surprised when he saw that she had come back from the dead in the first place.

"How in the hell did I end up in this career?" he thought as he wistfully recalled his mother's often repeated desire that he become a dentist like his father. Drilling teeth seemed fairly attractive to him now as he carefully watched his former secretary and zombie Alison hoping that she would not move again. Although a faint hope that she might stir and explain that damned "miscelaneous" filing system she used briefly crossed his mind.

Seventeen minutes later, he knew he'd done it. A mischevious little smile puckered the corners of his mouth.

He'd done it. He'd pulled it off. She never saw it coming. And now he could do whatever he wanted.

He watched her chest rise and fall evenly. A tiny smear of blood on her sweatshirt tailed the W in S W O O S H.

At least he hoped he'd done it this time. He was surprised when he saw that she had come back from the dead in the first place.

"How in the hell did I end up in this career?" he thought as he wistfully recalled his mother's often repeated desire that he become a dentist like his father. Drilling teeth seemed fairly attractive to him now as he carefully watched his former secretary and zombie Alison hoping that she would not move again. Although a faint hope that she might stir and explain that damned "miscelaneous" filing system she used briefly crossed his mind.

"How?..." his voice trailed.

Her eyes suddenly fixed on his, an almost dull ache in them ... a hunger, you could say. He took two faltering steps backwards, why had he spoken? She hadn't noticed he was there. He had thought that shovel to the head surely would have done the job.

Seventeen minutes later, he knew he'd done it. A mischevious little smile puckered the corners of his mouth.

He'd done it. He'd pulled it off. She never saw it coming. And now he could do whatever he wanted.

He watched her chest rise and fall evenly. A tiny smear of blood on her sweatshirt tailed the W in S W O O S H.

At least he hoped he'd done it this time. He was surprised when he saw that she had come back from the dead in the first place.

"How in the hell did I end up in this career?" he thought as he wistfully recalled his mother's often repeated desire that he become a dentist like his father. Drilling teeth seemed fairly attractive to him now as he carefully watched his former secretary and zombie Alison hoping that she would not move again. Although a faint hope that she might stir and explain that damned "miscelaneous" filing system she used briefly crossed his mind.

"How?..." his voice trailed.

Her eyes suddenly fixed on his, an almost dull ache in them ... a hunger, you could say. He took two faltering steps backwards, why had he spoken? She hadn't noticed he was there. He had thought that shovel to the head surely would have done the job.

"Go... go back to sleep," he stammered, hating the nervousness he could hear in his voice. "Don't make me hit you again."

Seventeen minutes later, he knew he'd done it. A mischevious little smile puckered the corners of his mouth.

He'd done it. He'd pulled it off. She never saw it coming. And now he could do whatever he wanted.

He watched her chest rise and fall evenly. A tiny smear of blood on her sweatshirt tailed the W in S W O O S H.

At least he hoped he'd done it this time. He was surprised when he saw that she had come back from the dead in the first place.

"How in the hell did I end up in this career?" he thought as he wistfully recalled his mother's often repeated desire that he become a dentist like his father. Drilling teeth seemed fairly attractive to him now as he carefully watched his former secretary and zombie Alison hoping that she would not move again. Although a faint hope that she might stir and explain that damned "miscelaneous" filing system she used briefly crossed his mind.

"How?..." his voice trailed.

Her eyes suddenly fixed on his, an almost dull ache in them ... a hunger, you could say. He took two faltering steps backwards, why had he spoken? She hadn't noticed he was there. He had thought that shovel to the head surely would have done the job.

"Go... go back to sleep," he stammered, hating the nervousness he could hear in his voice. "Don't make me hit you again."

What was odd is that it had never happened this way with the others. The stalking, the cornering, the capture and then ... the sweet release. It was quiet then. After.

Seventeen minutes later, he knew he'd done it. A mischevious little smile puckered the corners of his mouth.

He'd done it. He'd pulled it off. She never saw it coming. And now he could do whatever he wanted.

He watched her chest rise and fall evenly. A tiny smear of blood on her sweatshirt tailed the W in S W O O S H.

At least he hoped he'd done it this time. He was surprised when he saw that she had come back from the dead in the first place.

"How in the hell did I end up in this career?" he thought as he wistfully recalled his mother's often repeated desire that he become a dentist like his father. Drilling teeth seemed fairly attractive to him now as he carefully watched his former secretary and zombie Alison hoping that she would not move again. Although a faint hope that she might stir and explain that damned "miscelaneous" filing system she used briefly crossed his mind.

"How?..." his voice trailed.

Her eyes suddenly fixed on his, an almost dull ache in them ... a hunger, you could say. He took two faltering steps backwards, why had he spoken? She hadn't noticed he was there. He had thought that shovel to the head surely would have done the job.

"Go... go back to sleep," he stammered, hating the nervousness he could hear in his voice. "Don't make me hit you again."

What was odd is that it had never happened this way with the others. The stalking, the cornering, the capture and then ... the sweet release. It was quiet then. After.

Now the corners of her mouth turned up without mirth, just as his had a few moments earlier, and even while he was watching her gather herself to get up, she was up, just like that. And stood before him, oddly still, smiling that smile. He raised the shovel.

Seventeen minutes later, he knew he'd done it. A mischevious little smile puckered the corners of his mouth.

He'd done it. He'd pulled it off. She never saw it coming. And now he could do whatever he wanted.

He watched her chest rise and fall evenly. A tiny smear of blood on her sweatshirt tailed the W in S W O O S H.

At least he hoped he'd done it this time. He was surprised when he saw that she had come back from the dead in the first place.

"How in the hell did I end up in this career?" he thought as he wistfully recalled his mother's often repeated desire that he become a dentist like his father. Drilling teeth seemed fairly attractive to him now as he carefully watched his former secretary and zombie Alison hoping that she would not move again. Although a faint hope that she might stir and explain that damned "miscelaneous" filing system she used briefly crossed his mind.

"How?..." his voice trailed.

Her eyes suddenly fixed on his, an almost dull ache in them ... a hunger, you could say. He took two faltering steps backwards, why had he spoken? She hadn't noticed he was there. He had thought that shovel to the head surely would have done the job.

"Go... go back to sleep," he stammered, hating the nervousness he could hear in his voice. "Don't make me hit you again."

What was odd is that it had never happened this way with the others. The stalking, the cornering, the capture and then ... the sweet release. It was quiet then. After.

Now the corners of her mouth turned up without mirth, just as his had a few moments earlier, and even while he was watching her gather herself to get up, she was up, just like that. And stood before him, oddly still, smiling that smile. He raised the shovel.

*************

She had been doing busy work to kill the hours, at her secretarial job in a shiny glass-office building downtown, when her friend approached her desk.

"Oooh you have to check this out," her friend said in a giddy I-have-a-secret kind of voice. A few keystrokes on the computer and suddenly a website for a dating service appeared.

Seventeen minutes later, he knew he'd done it. A mischevious little smile puckered the corners of his mouth.

He'd done it. He'd pulled it off. She never saw it coming. And now he could do whatever he wanted.

He watched her chest rise and fall evenly. A tiny smear of blood on her sweatshirt tailed the W in S W O O S H.

At least he hoped he'd done it this time. He was surprised when he saw that she had come back from the dead in the first place.

"How in the hell did I end up in this career?" he thought as he wistfully recalled his mother's often repeated desire that he become a dentist like his father. Drilling teeth seemed fairly attractive to him now as he carefully watched his former secretary and zombie Alison hoping that she would not move again. Although a faint hope that she might stir and explain that damned "miscelaneous" filing system she used briefly crossed his mind.

"How?..." his voice trailed.

Her eyes suddenly fixed on his, an almost dull ache in them ... a hunger, you could say. He took two faltering steps backwards, why had he spoken? She hadn't noticed he was there. He had thought that shovel to the head surely would have done the job.

"Go... go back to sleep," he stammered, hating the nervousness he could hear in his voice. "Don't make me hit you again."

What was odd is that it had never happened this way with the others. The stalking, the cornering, the capture and then ... the sweet release. It was quiet then. After.

Now the corners of her mouth turned up without mirth, just as his had a few moments earlier, and even while he was watching her gather herself to get up, she was up, just like that. And stood before him, oddly still, smiling that smile. He raised the shovel.

*************

She had been doing busy work to kill the hours, at her secretarial job in a shiny glass-office building downtown, when her friend approached her desk.

"Oooh you have to check this out," her friend said in a giddy I-have-a-secret kind of voice. A few keystrokes on the computer and suddenly a website for a dating service appeared.

Alison blinked and looked at her friend. "Is that -- you have got to be kidding."

Seventeen minutes later, he knew he'd done it. A mischevious little smile puckered the corners of his mouth.

He'd done it. He'd pulled it off. She never saw it coming. And now he could do whatever he wanted.

He watched her chest rise and fall evenly. A tiny smear of blood on her sweatshirt tailed the W in S W O O S H.

At least he hoped he'd done it this time. He was surprised when he saw that she had come back from the dead in the first place.

"How in the hell did I end up in this career?" he thought as he wistfully recalled his mother's often repeated desire that he become a dentist like his father. Drilling teeth seemed fairly attractive to him now as he carefully watched his former secretary and zombie Alison hoping that she would not move again. Although a faint hope that she might stir and explain that damned "miscelaneous" filing system she used briefly crossed his mind.

"How?..." his voice trailed.

Her eyes suddenly fixed on his, an almost dull ache in them ... a hunger, you could say. He took two faltering steps backwards, why had he spoken? She hadn't noticed he was there. He had thought that shovel to the head surely would have done the job.

"Go... go back to sleep," he stammered, hating the nervousness he could hear in his voice. "Don't make me hit you again."

What was odd is that it had never happened this way with the others. The stalking, the cornering, the capture and then ... the sweet release. It was quiet then. After.

Now the corners of her mouth turned up without mirth, just as his had a few moments earlier, and even while he was watching her gather herself to get up, she was up, just like that. And stood before him, oddly still, smiling that smile. He raised the shovel.

*************

She had been doing busy work to kill the hours, at her secretarial job in a shiny glass-office building downtown, when her friend approached her desk.

"Oooh you have to check this out," her friend said in a giddy I-have-a-secret kind of voice. A few keystrokes on the computer and suddenly a website for a dating service appeared.

Alison blinked and looked at her friend. "Is that -- you have got to be kidding."

Staring back at her from her computer screen, with his best winning smile, was the guy the two of them had noticed hanging around the lobby of their office building. They'd noticed him, of course, because he'd been a looker -- tall, lean, impeccably dressed -- the two of them had assumed he'd been some bigwig in town from another corporate office. For all his polish though, she'd noticed there was something, (she couldn't put her finger on it), odd about him.

Seventeen minutes later, he knew he'd done it. A mischevious little smile puckered the corners of his mouth.

He'd done it. He'd pulled it off. She never saw it coming. And now he could do whatever he wanted.

He watched her chest rise and fall evenly. A tiny smear of blood on her sweatshirt tailed the W in S W O O S H.

At least he hoped he'd done it this time. He was surprised when he saw that she had come back from the dead in the first place.

"How in the hell did I end up in this career?" he thought as he wistfully recalled his mother's often repeated desire that he become a dentist like his father. Drilling teeth seemed fairly attractive to him now as he carefully watched his former secretary and zombie Alison hoping that she would not move again. Although a faint hope that she might stir and explain that damned "miscelaneous" filing system she used briefly crossed his mind.

"How?..." his voice trailed.

Her eyes suddenly fixed on his, an almost dull ache in them ... a hunger, you could say. He took two faltering steps backwards, why had he spoken? She hadn't noticed he was there. He had thought that shovel to the head surely would have done the job.

"Go... go back to sleep," he stammered, hating the nervousness he could hear in his voice. "Don't make me hit you again."

What was odd is that it had never happened this way with the others. The stalking, the cornering, the capture and then ... the sweet release. It was quiet then. After.

Now the corners of her mouth turned up without mirth, just as his had a few moments earlier, and even while he was watching her gather herself to get up, she was up, just like that. And stood before him, oddly still, smiling that smile. He raised the shovel.

*************

She had been doing busy work to kill the hours, at her secretarial job in a shiny glass-office building downtown, when her friend approached her desk.

"Oooh you have to check this out," her friend said in a giddy I-have-a-secret kind of voice. A few keystrokes on the computer and suddenly a website for a dating service appeared.

Alison blinked and looked at her friend. "Is that -- you have got to be kidding."

Staring back at her from her computer screen, with his best winning smile, was the guy the two of them had noticed hanging around the lobby of their office building. They'd noticed him, of course, because he'd been a looker -- tall, lean, impeccably dressed -- the two of them had assumed he'd been some bigwig in town from another corporate office. For all his polish though, she'd noticed there was something, (she couldn't put her finger on it), odd about him.

No one was surprised when Alison was assigned to him; everyone said she was lucky, after all (as though luck and hard work were the same thing). But despite receiving direction from him through emails, voice mail, and files left on her desk, they were never formally introduced and she never saw him face to face again in the office. Until today, when he'd appeared at 11:50 and asked her out to lunch.

Seventeen minutes later, he knew he'd done it. A mischevious little smile puckered the corners of his mouth.

He'd done it. He'd pulled it off. She never saw it coming. And now he could do whatever he wanted.

He watched her chest rise and fall evenly. A tiny smear of blood on her sweatshirt tailed the W in S W O O S H.

At least he hoped he'd done it this time. He was surprised when he saw that she had come back from the dead in the first place.

"How in the hell did I end up in this career?" he thought as he wistfully recalled his mother's often repeated desire that he become a dentist like his father. Drilling teeth seemed fairly attractive to him now as he carefully watched his former secretary and zombie Alison hoping that she would not move again. Although a faint hope that she might stir and explain that damned "miscelaneous" filing system she used briefly crossed his mind.

"How?..." his voice trailed.

Her eyes suddenly fixed on his, an almost dull ache in them ... a hunger, you could say. He took two faltering steps backwards, why had he spoken? She hadn't noticed he was there. He had thought that shovel to the head surely would have done the job.

"Go... go back to sleep," he stammered, hating the nervousness he could hear in his voice. "Don't make me hit you again."

What was odd is that it had never happened this way with the others. The stalking, the cornering, the capture and then ... the sweet release. It was quiet then. After.

Now the corners of her mouth turned up without mirth, just as his had a few moments earlier, and even while he was watching her gather herself to get up, she was up, just like that. And stood before him, oddly still, smiling that smile. He raised the shovel.

*************

She had been doing busy work to kill the hours, at her secretarial job in a shiny glass-office building downtown, when her friend approached her desk.

"Oooh you have to check this out," her friend said in a giddy I-have-a-secret kind of voice. A few keystrokes on the computer and suddenly a website for a dating service appeared.

Alison blinked and looked at her friend. "Is that -- you have got to be kidding."

Staring back at her from her computer screen, with his best winning smile, was the guy the two of them had noticed hanging around the lobby of their office building. They'd noticed him, of course, because he'd been a looker -- tall, lean, impeccably dressed -- the two of them had assumed he'd been some bigwig in town from another corporate office. For all his polish though, she'd noticed there was something, (she couldn't put her finger on it), odd about him.

No one was surprised when Alison was assigned to him; everyone said she was lucky, after all (as though luck and hard work were the same thing). But despite receiving direction from him through emails, voice mail, and files left on her desk, they were never formally introduced and she never saw him face to face again in the office. Until today, when he'd appeared at 11:50 and asked her out to lunch.

"Why .. I couldn't," she stammered, feeling the tips of her ears growing warm. Just moments earlier she had been writing out her name with his last one and chuckling to herself.

"Oh don't be silly, it's just a bite to eat," he said. And she thought, 'silly girl, what can it hurt to go to lunch with him?'

***********

It's funny what stupid little things you remember when you are about to die.

continued
 

It's funny what stupid little things you remember when you are about to die.

When he suddenly pulled her close to him while they waited for a cab after lunch, she expected an impulsive kiss, not the knife. The knife, so fast. And it wasn't until the pain started to pour out in earnest that she remembered that day when he stood in the lobby next to the glass elevators, his visage unreflected in a single surface.