Sunday, August 17, 2008

Writing Crime/Suspense

Fear was an exhilarating thing. It meant that the hunter was in his prime. That the prey had been brought to a point where it knew who was king. It signaled finality. The end. That's what he would remember of her face. The fear, the trembling, the loathing and the disbelief playing out all at once, contorting her features. She had lied, and cheated. She had angered him. And so these nightmares plagued him to no end. The flash of memory occurred almost as quickly as the dream ended. The glint of the knife blade, the contrast of blood and her pale skin. Paul's eyes adjusted to the light streaming into his bedroom window. He must have passed out on the floor in a drunken stupor, but the memory of last night was enough to bring him out of his sleep state. It dawned on him, that it hadn't really been a dream..

3 comments:

diatribe said...

this is so not you, kim!

KimyaShafinaaz said...

phew. i gave myself permission to write without judgement. and to just write (even if its bad). eek :/

well this is what experiments do, i suppose.

KimyaShafinaaz said...

actually i hate this one. sigh.

but will pin up and keep it so i remember not to write like this again.