I was just visiting Donna Sundblad's Pumping Your Muse Prompt blog, and found a wonderful 15-minute writing challenge I couldn't resist. She's listed several prompts but I thought that in honor or our 28th wedding anniversary today, murder at a wedding seemed ... well ... appropriate.
So here it is, my 15 minute flash fiction. Couldn't stop to think, so with my egg timer set for 15 minutes I typed. ;)
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No one noticed that Rodney Timms hadn’t moved in over an hour. He was sitting on the grass some distance away from the wedding party and leaning against the old Maple at the far end of the lawn. A small faded red spot on his the front of his shirt raised a guest’s eyebrow.
“Wine. Shame he can’t control his drink,” Mrs. Filler said with a shake of her head.
Doris Timms bit her lip then sipped her punch. “Typical.”
While the two women watched Rodney sleep, another guest walked up behind them.
“And what are you two lovelies doing?” Mr. Allan asked.
“Why it’s Rodney.” Mrs. Filler pointed an accusing finger at man leaning against the tree. “Drunk as usual.”
“Well, it is a wedding.” Allan smiled and raised his glass. “Let him have his fun, I say.”
“But his own daughter’s wedding!”
“That’s Rodney for you. Why do you think we divorced?” Doris took anther sip. “Nothing but problems, that one. I didn’t want him to come—he insisted. In fact, I begged him. I knew something like this would happen.”
Allan gave Doris a consoling patted on the back. “Just let him sleep it off. In the morning everything will be better. You’ll see.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right,” Doris said. "In fact, I know it."
As Mrs. Filler and Mr. Allan walked away, a smile tugged at the corner of Doris’s mouth while she continued to stare at her former husband. Moments later she heard another family friend, David, call out her name. She could sense he was only a few feet away.
“Doris, what,” he paused for a moment. “You dropped something.” He carefully picked up the ice pick with his napkin then lowered and raised his glance. He glanced at Rodney and frowned. His mouth grew taut.
Doris froze. She clutched her purse and stared him square in the face wondering what he was going to do with the bloodied ice pick he held in his napkin; the one that had fallen out of her purse. The pick with her prints and Rodney’s blood on it. Damn, she always liked David. Now she’d have to take care of him too.
Please stop by Donna's blog and take the challenge. It's great fun!!