Creature from the Black Lagoon!

A Ficly about an unnaturally series of deaths, a gritty tale inspired by the classic 50′s b-horror film. Everything needs a gritty reboot! (Spiderman 4, anyone?)

A twenty-five year victim of a gangland war. Two and a half decades in urban hell, cut down years past his prime.

Coffee splashes down my throat like a river of fire. I wipe the crust from my eyes. Two days later and they’re still dredging the swamp just outside city limits. The suddenness of the chief’s statement was unnerving. Standing around the rotting rank naked torso in six inches of water, looking through the fog at the deep grooves in the mud caused by clutching fingers, the phantom of the scream echoing in our minds, he said what we were all thinking.

“I don’t know what it was, but something came out of those waters.”

Someone asked if it could have been an alligator. We all kind of doubted that.

We stormed back to the cars like a bunch of fascists and hit the streets twice as hard, beating skulls in and blowing doors down like big bad wolves because there was a dead cop, or at least part of one, and we didn’t know who or what did it. Maybe the worst part of it was the fact that it wasn’t the first time. The list is at least ten names long, not all of them officers of the law. I’m starting to hope that it actually is a serial killing alligator. I can out smart that. I scared out of my mind that it might be something else.

Originally on Ficly:

Part One: http://ficly.com/stories/17044

Part Two: http://ficly.com/stories/17045

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Just Like Dancing

A Ficly short about a murder scene.

I crouch down on the balls of my feet and look at the body. What a piece of art. Naked, bloody, left arm almost emancipated from the shoulder.

It’s ten at night, the corpse relaxes, illuminated by the dimness of the street light above. Highway roars in the distance. The buzz and wail of sirens has stopped. I survey the group. Everyone, bleary-eyed, watches from a distance while I snap a few pictures. No one wants to get closer.

It started two months ago, dead man in bathtub, arms and legs bound, head tied to cinder-block. I wonder who the fuck came up with that idea. The five cops who went to check out the body all turned up dead within two days. Those who looked into their murders were dead in six hours. Everyone naked, everyone covered in blood. Primal.

I look back at the half-circle of cars and officers watching from twenty or so feet as I probe the corpse. Maybe this will be me soon. Blue and red lights twirl and flash over the body and me, and it feels for a moment like we’re dancing.

Originally on Ficyl.com: http://ficly.com/stories/15760

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