A Zealous Missive

This was written for the six-sentence story prompt “express” on girlontheedge’s blog. I got stuck on the concept of expression, as in express one’s feelings, and ended up writing what would be considered epistolary fiction, on someone expressing their deeply hidden feelings for their boss.


Dear Mr. Thomas, I am writing this letter to you to express the true depth of my feelings for you, which I have wished to do for sometime, but did not dare to until now.

I have walked around each day with a smile on my face, pretending everything was normal, that I was just another employee and you my employer, when this cannot be further from the truth.

To state it plainly, I loathe you, every fiber of your being, from your shady business practices, to your your oil slick voice, all the way to your perfectly quaffed hair.

I hate the way you fired the most senior of us to save a buck, then punished us all for not hitting deadlines on projects that were assigned to other people a week ago, and are now our responsibility with no time to catch up.

I despise the way you call yourself an upstanding citizen, when what I really want more than anything is to hit you upside your upstanding head until you realize that your actions have consequences that affect more than just you.

She signed the letter sincerely, Jane Howowitz, and then tossed it in the shredder, taking Mr. Thomas a cup of tea, barely resisting a glare as his eyes lingering too long on her behind.

Katherine the Great

I will be honest here, no memory of writing this, but it seems a wonderful choice to post right at the New Year. I am not a resolution type of girl, and sometimes I think people need to work a little more on being happy with who they are, rather than trying to become someone who will be happy. Controversial opinion, I know. Please note, I do not condone smoking in any way, shape, or form.


“Today’s the day I change” She said to herself, reading the little card. Stupid affirmations, they always seemed so shallow. Though she wasn’t exactly sure what it was that she was expecting. After all they were only small pieces of cardboard.

She skipped ahead to the next day “keep trying”

Bleh, she threw the stack in the garbage, and pulled the package of cigarettes from her purse. She was jittery, and on edge, and smoking was going to kill her one day, but this, the feelings might do it today if she didn’t.

She breathed in and relished the burn, letting the familiar sensation calm her in a way that a thousand stupid affirmations wouldn’t. She looked at the yoga mat in the corner, and felt a simmering of guilt at not even opening the gift. She knew that it would help, but she had been so busy it just seemed like one more task, on an endless list of tasks.

She snuffed out the cigarette, and reached for her second vice, breathing in the bitter smell of the hot coffee. It was bad for her anxiety, or so she had been told, but there were some things that she wouldn’t bend on, and this was one of them.

It seemed the recipe for clean living was being miserable, and she was one of those who was going to die far too young under the banner of living well. For her quality was everything, and while she tried to balance it with quantity of life, most of the time it just fell short.

What was it the song said “good time, not a lot of time” or something of the sort? She was determined from here on out she was going to stop stressing ,and start enjoying, and that meant coffee, cigarettes and fucking cake, not a stupid salad, no dressing, and 45 minute jog. She stepped back in from the balcony, closed the door and got ready for the day

She brushed her teeth twice to make sure to rid herself of the smell, and took a long shower. After, she did her hair, nails, makeup, and layered her clothing just so. She looked in the mirror and the person starting back at her appeared completely unrelated to the person who walked into the bathroom. She nodded at the stranger in the mirror and she knew she was ready to face the day.

The wasn’t Katie, who rather spend her day in her PJ’s eating ice cream than talk to another person. This was Katherine, consummate professional, impeccable, sociable, and good at what she did. She was ready to take on the world, and god forbid anyone stupid enough to get in her way, because Katherine took no prisoners.

She thought back to the nonsensical affirmation card and laughed. Nothing was going to change today, and maybe, just maybe, that was a good thing.

Perfect Match

What you may notice this year is a prevailing theme of murder in my stories. I was watching Prodigal Son, Criminal Minds, and Perception when I was writing a lot of my stuff up and apparently it sunk in. If murder isn’t your thing, look for murder in the tags. This one is a “murder spouses” theme


We were together three years before I found out he was killing people when he said he was out hunting with his buddies. He was hunting all right, but when I dropped by with snacks, it wasn’t a deer he was cutting up at the cabin.

The look on his face was priceless, and almost as good as the look he got when I showed him how I really spent my “spa weekend with girls”. There were girls, but it wasn’t mud that I was bathing in.

It was tough at first, the sense of betrayal we both felt, being lied to. Knowing that we were both capable of lying about something of this magnitude, it was a lot. We even split for a while, I stayed with my Mom, but then slowly, but surely another thought came over me. I got all done up and went out to the hunting cabin and walked in, kicked my boots off, and I quietly entered the bathroom, feet squishing in the blood soaking the mat in front of the tub where she lay bound and bleeding. I picked up a knife and just when she thought I was there to free her, I ran in down her arm lightly, reveling in the way the blood beaded up, and then ran down her arm in small delicate rivulets.

That’s when he walked in, , and when he saw me there, the yell died mid-word and he smiled at me, the way he smiled when we first met, like I was his whole world, and I knew then that we would get past this. That we could do this, together.