The Crime Scene

524EC1C6-6683-45B8-B0A4-049802D0BD69Detectives Jim Morrisey and Ron Hayden entered the room after Morrisey kicked open the door. The first thing they noticed was the awful smell that hit them in the face as soon as they entered the room. “Oh my God,” Hayden said, covering his nose with his hand. “Remind me to carry a can of that Glade air freshener spray next time we bust into a crime scene.”

Morrisey shot Hayden a dirty look. He then flicked a light switch on the wall next to the door, which turned on a very bright light directly above a long, metal table in the middle of the room. Morrisey noticed how spartan the room was. In addition to the table, there were a few wooden chairs and a large wooden desk, upon which were what appeared to be some surgical tools spread out on its surface. An old claw foot bathtub stood in one corner of the room. There were no lights other than the one situated directly above the metal table, and the few windows were covered by blackout curtains. “So this is where the perp brought his prey in order to harvest their organs,” he said.

“Well,” Hayden said,” that explains the stink.”

“Okay, Ron,” Morrisey said, “quit bellyaching about the smell and start dusting for prints and seeing if you can get any blood samples. If we’re going to catch this sick bastard, our procedures need to exemplify a flawless investigation.”

Written for these prompts: Word of the Day Challenge (glade), Scotts Daily Prompt (prey), Ragtag Daily Prompt (spartan), Your Daily Word Prompt (harvest), Daily Addictions (exemplify).

WATW — Come Back Tomorrow

2F107820-8B7F-40FF-AB9D-BC6C79ACFE51Whoa! That’s some strong smell. It’s enough to curl my feathers.

Hell, Polly doesn’t need a freakin’ cracker. Polly needs a goddam bath. Where’s that birdbath, anyway? I know I saw it around here somewhere.

No, don’t come near me. Not today. Come back tomorrow. We can talk then. I promise I’ll clean up my act. I’ll put on a really good show. Tomorrow.

Written for Teresa’s Worth a Thousand Words prompt. Photo credit: Couleur at


Friday Fictioneers — Finally Finished


“Finally,” Larry said aloud. He had sequestered himself in his home office for three straight days, taking breaks only to sleep a few hours, to take bathroom breaks, and to eat. And to polish off nearly a bottle of bourbon.

Larry walked from his office into the kitchen where his wife was sitting and kissed her on the cheek. She pulled away, crinkled up her nose, and said, “You stink and you look like shit.”

“Wait until you see the mess I left for you on the coffee table in my office,” he said. “But I finally finished our taxes.”

(100 words)

Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneer prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Yvette Prior.