Saturday Night Write-In

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Comment by David Price on March 15, 2009 at 11:44am

Keep in Min that for intensive purposes this forum and the crative writing forum have been joined and moved to the all new Saturday Night Write-In located on Dave Tallman's 10 Question site. That being said, if you want to continue with an existing story line you'll want to do it over there, not here or else you may miss the latest added threads by other members.

Still not sure where to go? Heres the link......

The New and Improved Saturday Night Write-In

Comment by Dave from Fictionwritersgroup.com on March 14, 2009 at 11:57pm

Jerico hesitated, unsure what to think, but the urgency in her voice but his feet to moving

Comment by R.A. Baker on March 14, 2009 at 11:17pm

Detective Jerico collected as much evidence as he could find—not much, really—just the victim’s blood and lots of it. The Axe Killer never left anything else behind. No fingerprints on the body, no traceable fibers or hairs, no saliva, or any other bodily fluids that could be taken to the lab for DNA testing. Jerico sighed grimly, shaking his graying head. It didn’t make any sense. How could a man be so wildly brutal with his killing and yet so careful to as to not leave any clues behind? As if in answer to his question, a woman’s voice sounded behind him.

“He is under the Death Watcher’s protection.” Jerico quickly turned to see a young woman in her early thirties. She would be considered beautiful if not for her pervasive frown. “Her magic cloaks his actions, her spells keep him safe.” Before Lt. Jerico could say a single word about the absurdity of her words, she grabbed his hand, pointing to his black Ford sedan. “There is no time for debate, Mr. Jerico. Nightfall is almost upon us. I know all about you, and the Axe Killer. And if you want to catch him and save the souls of those living in this city, you will come with me to the Winter Creek graveyard before it’s too late!”

Comment by Mari Sloan on March 14, 2009 at 10:54pm

Betsy was an heirlom, a handed down part good-luck token, part deadly instrument of torture and death, handed down through the generations from his great-great grandfather "Norman the Butcher ", of Rome.

Comment by Dave from Fictionwritersgroup.com on March 14, 2009 at 9:23pm

Only his beloved Axe Betsy made him feel that way now, soon though he could put Besty away and be happy again.

Comment by Dave from Fictionwritersgroup.com on March 14, 2009 at 9:22pm

The stolen articles felt warm in his pocket, warm as Liah would feel once she was back with him. The thought of her stired him in ways no other woman could

Comment by R.A. Baker on March 14, 2009 at 6:29pm

“That’s thirteen by my hand” Rall hissed. His soft voice was coarse, with a slight lisp. In the shadows of the gnarled tree, he crouched and waited, peering through his binoculars at the tall man in the tan trench coat. This detective called Lt. Jerico was too clever for him to get careless—especially now that he was so close. So close. He would patiently wait until Jerico went away. He always did eventually. Jerico was always on his trail, but he could never find Rall when he hid. Hunched over, with his face displaying a twisted smile, Rall thought about the only thing he didn’t hate. Liah his lost love. The old fortune teller witch he met had promised she could bring his dead lover back from the grave with the tongue and eyes of his thirtieth victim. The old hag was unconcerned about how he treated the previous twelve women, but she was insistent that the last one die only from lack of breath and that her eyes and tongue be taken so she could use them in the “awakening ritual”. The axe man did not did not question her beyond that. He did not care as long as he could see Liah again. So close. Tonight, right before midnight, he would meet the old woman at the graveyard for the ritual.

Comment by Dave from Fictionwritersgroup.com on March 14, 2009 at 5:13pm

One hundred feet away, the Mad Axe Man watched the activity and smiled as he peeked around the trunk of the old oak tree holding binoculars to his eyes.
Posted by Papaed

Comment by Dave from Fictionwritersgroup.com on March 14, 2009 at 5:11pm

Jerico, knelt, closed the eyes of this latest victim, the eyes that were said to be the windows to the soul, these eyes were missing, the mouth was wide open and the tongue was missing. Yet the body itself was untouched this time

posted by Gloria Stiller

Comment by Dave from Fictionwritersgroup.com on March 14, 2009 at 5:09pm

Jerico spun in place, the sound of screaming ringing in his ears. "Oh god," he said, "I'm too late he's killed again!"

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