Thursday, May 16, 2013

My Short Fiction Collection # 1 ("Death")

Over the next couple of weeks, I will be posting some of my fiction pieces with the intent to ask for input. My question is really two-fold:

  1. Is my fiction worthy, that is, is it something enjoyable, something that you would be willing to read in a magazine (if published), or in an e-Book, if I published one of my longer pieces?
  2. Should I continue the story in the particular piece you're reading now, or would you call this a self-contained piece, and are you satisfied with this story? Do you want more pieces like this one?
So, without further ado, here is the first piece, which I wrote many years ago. Let me know what you think in the comments:



    On a dark Sunday afternoon, it was overcast and muggy, the heiress came to New York. For the first time in her life she could do anything she wanted. She was rich in more ways than money.

   Rick was the first guy she met. He was an average kind of guy with an overbearing attitude. But, as everyone said: "he's a great son of a ..." He helps out people when they don't expect it. Mrs. Whitmore can attest to that. Anyway, Julia got an apartment above him, so, they were next ceiling neighbors. He figured she was rich;  this was at the time he was expanding his business. So they met and started seeing each other regularly.
Julia didn't have any sisters or brothers, but her cousins flocked to New York trying to milk her dry of her money. She got Rick to turn them all away. Then Peter showed-up.
   She was still in love with him, although she hadn't seen him since she first left Iowa, two years before. "They were made for each other," she thought back then. Now though, she wasn't so sure. And what was love anyway, but a passing fad. How could she explain it to Peter without breaking his heart?

  "This is Rick," she introduced the current man in her life to Peter. "He is my boyfriend."

   Peter wasn't impressed by Rick, but of course he was an SOB anyway, right? You could almost feel the electricity sparkle between them. Something was going to happen, something bad.

   It was the night of the third. Julia was out with Rick. They were presently  drinking at a local pub. Rick said, "I want your body." He didn't for goodness sake say, "I want your money," which is what he meant. Peter showed-up with a gun. It was a .45 with a silencer.  He used it and the poor SOB Rick was dead. And then he killed Julia, the idiot. The heiress was gone along with her money.

So, what did you think of this short fiction piece?

Please write your reviews in the comments section. 

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