How I Got Away With Murder

This was based on a couple of Meme’s floating around about killing people to make their autobiographies more interesting. I mixed it with a little stir craziness from lockdown, the oddity of the true crime buff community, and ended up with this prologue, which even I have to admit, is really strange.


Welcome to my autobiography. I am writing this prologue at 32, when I first came up with the idea of writing an autobiography, and you are probably reading it because of all the cool stuff that I am about to do. Ya, ABOUT, to do, as in I haven’t really done anything noteworthy yet, or at least nothing I can talk to anyone about. The latter is why I decided to write this in the first place, get it ready, and get it published posthumously.

Ok, so the book will of course give you the random growing up stories, all carefully crafted, to make me look great and my enemies look like shit. I want to tell you in this prologue where this book started, and that was in 2020, during the covid-19 epidemic, more specifically in lockdown.

I was middle class, single middle class. I say that cause when someone says middle class you are thinking 2 kids, pet, house, and I am more like apartment, have enough money to stay comfy, but my apartment is kind of boring for extended stays. I needed to find something to do, and before you think it, no I wasn’t one of those people who made sourdough, and turned to introspection. Mostly because I couldn’t get a starter, and my bread always turns out like a rock. I did make jam though, and it was fucking amazing. Anyway, I want to say I spent my time in isolation constructively, but basically I spent it doom-scrolling and binge-watching anything and then everything I could stream.

On one of my doom scrolls I read this joke “Gotta stop killing people to spice up my autobiography.” The next week it was “Thinking of killing a character in the book I am writing. Its my autobiography” And like, I thought this was dumb, because it wouldn’t actually be that interesting. I mean, its actually not that hard to kill someone. I mean, you can do it with your bare hands given the right size ratio or the element of surprise. Bring in a baseball bat and well, most people can do this.

What takes it from boring to interesting would be killing someone and GETTING AWAY with it. So that led me to true crime, and true crime bloggers, and like this thing where you all talk about how bad people are about getting away with murder. That of course leads to the conversation of, could you get away with it, AKA the perfect murder.

I am smart, resourceful and I KNEW I could rock this. Weird part is, the better you are, the deeper you get into this community, the less people share about their plans, like weirdly, “just in case you have to use them”, like yikes right?

So when I came up with my perfect plan I was so super proud, and yet extremely protective of it, cause I had like the best plan ever, and as soon as I put it out there, all these assholes were going take pieces and pretend they came up with them.

So here lies the rub with planning the perfect murder. Told people I had the perfect murder plan, the response “no plans perfect” . I was like actually, its pretty awesome. And then they responded, prove it. And there it was, you can’t actually prove its a perfect murder, unless you actually do the plan, and commit the murder.

I am not crazy, I did not go “Yep, sure, right on that.” I of course, blasted them for being a hypocritical asshole, and sulked like the adult woman I am.

I let it go, for a long time, because, well, really what other option did I have. Lockdown got extended, started working from home, and honestly I think the isolation got to me, because I reached a point where it didn’t seem so insane anymore.

Then I started murder shopping, as an amusement really, and that went on for like months, and it was the end of 2021, I had two vaccinations, and my stupid anti-vax, I guess former friends now were not people I could see. I just, I got bored, I had done all the things I could do, and watched all the shows, and I was really really bored.

That was when I realized I had completely assembled my murder kit. So I spent my time perfecting, revising the plan, until one day I guess, I completely lost it, because I picked a person. My victim I guess, and two weeks later, I, uh, killed them.

That is when I discovered the next problem. Killed’em, got away with it, and now I can’t tell anyone what I did. Jackie_the_ripped_1978 is great and all, but loose lips sink ships, and I don’t want to go to prison. But it sucked, cause I did it, I did the perfect murder, and if I tell someone then they are going to tell someone and everyone is going to claim the reason I went to prison was cause the murder wasn’t perfect not because Jackie can’t keep her trap shut.

So I came up with the idea, this idea, the stupid Meme idea, autobiography. The issue being, to sell this, without letting anyone read the murder bit, I need to have accomplished something worth someone taking a posthumous autobiography site unseen, and publishing it. It. So now I am onto great things, to get this story out there. So all my great works that follow, remember, did all that, to be able to tell you all about me losing my mind at 32 and committing the perfect murder, AND most importantly, getting away with it.

There are a few issues with my murder/autobiography plan, if you want to mimic it. It assumes you either will outlive and/or hate your parents, because life is not going to be great for them after this comes out. Works best for only children, same reasons as above. Same, actually goes for a family really, husband and kids won’t really take this so well, so you know why I died alone in the end.

So now you know the dark secret behind my wonderful life. If you are here for the descent into madness and murder bit, skip to chapter 22. If you just want to read the feel good bio you were expecting, read everything except chapters 22-28 inclusive. I hope you enjoy this book, as much as I enjoyed getting away with murder!

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.

Not Quite Right

So this was written a little out of desperation, and the reason I am going down to bi-weekly postings of short stories in the new year. I grabbed a random prompt from Agirlnamedjana’s prompt account on tumblr.

“When they tried to dig up the body, to everyone’s surprise, it was not empty. There were more bodies in the casket than expected.”

I wrote the following in about 30 minutes, and I highly recommend her blog for anyone who is looking for some inspiration.

We all stood around the open casket, dirty, sweating, and horrified. It was supposed to be empty.


We were crime enthusiasts, or at least thats what we liked to call outselved. It was a litle weird, but we had all watched a few too many procedural crime dramas, which led to true crime dramas, which lead to this, which even I admit was really freaking weird.

We had been following the case on the news, until it it ended in the supposed death of the suspect, who had been proven the kiler post mortem. The thing is, the crimes didn’t stop, not entirely. Well, they did in our town, but those of us who fanatically track this stuff online found that there were crimes with similar MO’s a few states over.

There were just enough difference that it wasn’t flagging on any databases, but there was something about these new murders that just made you know that it was the same screwed up guy. Then they stopped and another set of similar, yet different murder started in another state.

Some were saying partner, others copycat, but my little group of weirdos, we had a different idea entirely. With a copy of the autopsy, forensic results, and deterctive note. I know, you want to know where we got them, but even I am not entirely sure. Suzie started to imply sexual favors and we all decided we weren’t going to ask any follow up questions.

Anyways, everything we had was conclusive right down to dental records, except this one small thing, the reason none of us could let this go, the damage from the grenade that ended up going off in his hand, it was his right hand, and this guy was most certainly left handed. Why would he have been throwing with his non-dominant hand.

Some illegal hacking, more of Suzie’s favors, and we had some CCTV footage that had a guy that looked super similar leaving the scene, and then around town for a few days, and then turning up where the next murders started.

It should have been enough, a slam dunk, but the cops wanted this over with. The bad publicity from not catching this guy for so long was haunting them, and they wanted it over. There would be no more investigation. Even if it did look like he had faked his own death and was murdering people elsewhere, because, well, it was elsewhere and so not their problem.

We reached out, I swear we did, to other communities, other cops, but ultimately, we got nothing. No one wanted to touch this with a ten foot pole. It was bad news, and spoke of police maleficence that no one wanted to be the harbinger of.

So we stewed, and then we sulked, and then we came up with a really dumb idea. If, and it wasn’t really an if because we knew it was true, the killer had faked his own death and was on a killing spree, then there was an empty coffin in the local cemetary that would prove as much.

We snuck in shortly after dark, and even with 6 of us, it took a suprisingly long time to dig down to the casket. Six feet is a lot of dirt, and by the time we reached it, we were all painfully aware of why people used machinery to dig graves nowadays.

What we were not expecting when we finally popped it open, was the smell. I, I don’t really know how to describe it, decomposing human flesh smells so much worse than I ever could have imagined. There was a body in there, and if it hadn’t been for Suzie’s gasped “We were right.” I wouldn’t of looked.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. The casket wasn’t empty, we were wrong about that, but the killer in question was a man, 6’3”, dark hair, and all three of the bodies jammed in the casket were short blond women. I could hear the sirens approaching and I wasn’t sure what I was going to say, after all, we were right, but oh, so wrong.