Well this is a first, I just had someone kill me in a blog… Is it weird that I took this as an honor? Reading his story was like watching a friend raise his hand, initiating a high five, unsure about how it would be received.
Originally I took this as a challenge. Maybe he saw something in my writing that made him want to match wits with me. Is this a Highlander moment? Around the second or third time that I read his story I was able to put aside my ego and take it for what it was. A story with my name in it, not an insult in anyway, nor was it a challenge. It was more of an invitation.
This is going to be a tough one. I’ve tried to piggyback off of others writings before, it’s extremely difficult. Even as I brainstorm now, I’m getting a little anxious thinking about how I can enter his world and write my story so that it fits without completely abandoning my own writing style. I think I’ll just take a few key things from his writing and incorporate them. That should work, right?
Michael killed me with just 200 words, so I’ll use that as my max. There’s a hint of European vernacular, this is foreign to me (haha get it?) so I don’t want to try and force it in there, we’ll see what happens. I don’t want to change anything about the characters that he has already established. Well, maybe I’ll just add a bit of flair to them, and maybe a character or two of my own. So, here goes nothing.
If you know anything about me you should know that I always return the high five. Always…
“No-one in the department believes that Alphonso is as bad as the rumors, there’s simply no proof. After almost three years of investigation, the only thing that we can prove is that this guy occasionally steals money from his church collection plate. So, I’m heading there now. This ends today.” – Michael’s words seep out of the answering machine, filling the room as Wednesday’s manhood goes limp in Thomas’s mouth.
Michael stumbles his way to Alphonso’s seat in the first pew, leans in, and flashes his badge, “we’re going to talk.” Alphonso twists his hand, forcing his arm crisply in the wrong direction. With a punch to the throat and a knee to the groin, Michael collapses and creeps towards the door, urgently gasping for air. The church is still, unaffected by this display. Alphonso calms his guards as they rise and bounces Michael’s head rhythmically off of the tile; the choir grows louder. Blood splatters into a pool, rivering its way down the aisle towards the exit. Michael barely stands, just in time to find Alphonso’s foot escorting him through the door. Soaring over the steps, his skull splits as his body crashes to the pavement. Bits of Michael’s brain fall to Wednesday’s bonnet as he arrives.
*Clap* And there it is, my 200 word prequel. I hope you all enjoyed it.
Until next time, include your fellow bloggers in your fiction, well, the ones with tough skin.
P.S. That is a screenshot of the kik blog group that Michael and I are in where he told me about his story. When I first responded I had yet to read the post and once I did I quickly realized that I had to follow up. Please take the time to go to his page and to see how this all started, er, ended.