Welcome back to Fiction Friday.
It must be springtime because a bird just bashed into our south window. We lose a few feathered creatures, especially the poor souls that slam into the north window hoping for a shortcut to the south.
Fiction Friday is a bit delayed. Silly non-fiction tasks have kept me very busy.
By the Way, if you missed last night’s radio interview with Elaine Raco Chase I embedded the link in this sentence.
Here we go –
This is something I found in my notebook. I do not think I posted it so I will be revising on the fly. This is going to be pretty much the way it came out of my head.
That’s My Last Victim
There he is. See the man in the long coat? Nice, flat shoes, not running shoes. Not a cowboy poet, that’s for sure. He has his hair all starched up, standing in curious thatches all over his head.
See how he held the door before he slipped inside after that woman?
He’ll be coming out, again. When you see him again he’ll look much the same, maybe even a little better.
He is pretending to sell ad space. He’ll get away with this scam for a long time. He gathers information and gives his mark some passwords. All the ladies like him.
They don’t know he’s convinced them to volunteer information no one should have. The ladies will go home or to their offices and use those passwords. They will fill out forms and disclose things he doesn’t need.
You’re wondering why no one stops him. I have an appointment with him and he doesn’t know I have already sucked him dry. I just want to be there when he opens his laptop and the virus strikes.
You see, I was his first victim and tomorrow he’ll be my last.
Come back often. Visit Writerly Wednesday and Fiction Friday and don’t touch anything sharp.