As a writer I believe you should write until it becomes an addiction. That is why I try to come up with a writing theme for everyday of the week. The theme for Mondays are "Motivational Mondays" where I write about different things that motivate me, and I try to motivate others with my words as well. Tuesdays are "True Tuesdays" where I write about current events and my perspective on whats going on in the world. My favorite day of the week has to be Wednesdays, which I refer to as "Writing Wednesdays." This is the day that I explore my creative writing. Today I started the first short story of an anthology I'm working on. The first short story in my anthology is called "Murder Men." The story is about a detective who is being antagonized by a serial killer he's trying to catch. I hope you enjoy it. Here is the excerpt:
As he sat on the toilet in the men’s bathroom, Ron took another bump of cocaine and read the letter again.
This blood is not what I wanted to see. These screams are not what I wanted to hear. I never thought that I would be the catalyst of fear. At the same time we are who we are. You and I have a destiny together. I am a deliverer of death, and so are you. You are my hero with your 12 disciples. You know they worship you from their dark boxes full of decay, right? They smell because of you! Now they send you after me? Brothers in blood, that’s what we are. Your analogy of the human experience would lead you to think different. When was the last time you took a life? Let me think. Would it be wrong for me to mention the little girl you shot in the face? Oh! I apologize for Little Betty Detective. You’re still in therapy for that one. Well I took one last night. You won’t find he or she (lol) until the grim reapers of the sky point you in the right direction. You know what Detective? I slept like a bear in hibernation after I relieved myself with blood. Something tells me you have a peaceful sleep after you feed your beast as well. So how are we different? I tell you one thing. My goal is to make the streets of our great city run black and yellow with expired blood, until we finally meet. While I sit here sipping on my espresso, a beautiful blond has just caught my attention. I promise you that I will definitely sleep good tonight. How will you my brother?”
Ron finished reading the letter through the clear, evidence bag and yelled out from his porcelain thrown, “You sick fuck!” This was the fourth letter Detective Ron Farrell had received in the past six months. The first one arrived on New Year’s day of January 2013. The city of Detroit hasn’t dealt with a serial killer in decades, so why now? Why did such a monster hit the streets taking innocent lives? It took exactly seven days before the body would be discovered, and the vultures always found the body first. Ron was an unlikely choice to head up the investigation. He’s been investigated at least a dozen times by internal affairs for questionable shootings, including the accidental shooting of a little girl the killer mentioned in the letter. His little coke habit and love for Jack Daniels helped him cope, but he still wasn’t sleeping much.
After two years, Ron still saw Betty Johnson in his nightmares. With all that said Ron was still a star in the department. He earned his tough rep while working undercover in narcotics. That’s why his lieutenant gave him a lot of leeway, but this case couldn’t have landed in Ron’s lap at a worse time. His wife of 10 years had just left him and took their three-year-old daughter with her. Detroit Police didn’t give a shit about his personal problems. The city was on the brink of a financial collapse, and the FBI had its hands full with chasing terrorists. A serial killer would normally bring out the Feds but not this time. No one wanted to touch Detroit at the time, not even the government. The task of catching this sick bastard rested on the shoulders of Detective Farrell, and he had to wait seven days before the next body would be discovered…