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The anguish was palpable, almost a physical presence. The fear, pain, and death of so many in such a concentrated area left an emotional scar on the land. And for what?
The fence marked the line, the hard-fought prize of too many battles. Neither side held the prize for long. Neither was ever willing to concede. But both sides, believing theirs to be the right cause, fought brothers, uncles, and fathers.
She’d come hoping to heal the scar, to put brothers, uncles, and fathers to rest at last. But the pain was too much, the souls lost too many.
Once again into the Friday Fictioneers fray! For anyone who hasn’t tried this yet, it is lots of fun and completely addicting. Simply take the new photo supplied each week and write a 100 word story, post it on your blog, and share with the group. They are a wonderful band of writers who are also very encouraging to a newbie. 🙂 My newest addition follows the picture. And all of the other great stories can be found at the link at the bottom of this post.
“Hey, Andre! What’s going on? Why are we running?” He was getting too fat to run every time the herd spooked.
“I don’t know, Phillip. But it must be bad. Harold zipped by freaking out.”
“You know everything freaks out Harold. Robert’s last practical joke of crying wolf made us look like fools. Again.”
“What was that sound? Did you hear that?”
“It’s Robert laughing at us again.”
“No, it wasn’t laughing. There!”
“Nope…wait! Oh GOD! WOLF! WOLF!”
“You sure about it?”
Robert zoomed past saying, “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.” He was missing his tail.
It was the one thing at the scene that didn’t fit with the crime. There were no cult aspects, no wax for torture. Hell, it wasn’t even needed as a light source. So why did every scene have a big white candle? The reason for the candles might hold the clue to the killer.
Why burn candles? Not light, not cult ritual. Wait? Ritual. That’s it!
“Hey, Carl. Weren’t the previous victims named Mary?”
“Son of a bitch! This guy is Catholic. He’s killing virgins and lighting prayer candles for them to the Virgin Mary. Sick, twisted bastard.”