MY SERIALIZED CRIME THRILLER
Hello! if you haven’t heard, my blog is changing.
It’s not gonna be random anymore. It’s going to be a serialized thriller.
The story will unfold over time. Each post will be another chapter in the story.
I’ve named the blog:
My Serialized Thriller:
A Serialized Thriller with Action, Suspense, Crime, and Mystery.
The real name of my serialized thriller blog is:
(And yes it’s supposed to be 2 words.)
Don’t get your parties in a wad, grammar police.👮🏼♂️👮🏼♂️👮🏼♂️
I plan on posting the blog 3 days a week.
So every Monday, Wednesday and Friday at least (I might post more often) I will post an installment of the story.
This, of course, is the first installment.
And this, of course, is a day that will live in installmentemphamy!
My Serialized Thriller
“It was supposed to be easy…”
THE first bullet hit the wooden post to Charlie’s right, spewing splinters into his face.
A small one landed in his eye, causing him to swear and drop to his knee. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed the pain.
Sonofabitch that hurt.
A slender swirl of smoke rose slowly from the post, like a flamed out match.
The faint scent of burned wood mixed with the ocean air brought back a memory from Charlie’s childhood.
He shuttered involuntarily.
It was a memory he didn’t want to relive.
More bullets sprayed around him, some hitting the post, raining down more chips and splinters on his head.
I gotta get the hell out of here.
Believing that speed was better than cover at this point, Charlie sprinted away from the bullets, the wooden post, and the danger.
Charlie, of course, was wrong.
He needed the cover desperately.
Charlie learned this point the hard way, a lead missile catching him in the thigh, his whole body on fire, his leg collapsing under him.
He barely noticed falling face first onto the rotted wood of the abandoned pier, or sliding forward, his nose broken, his face cut to pieces by raised nails and disintegrating boards.
This hurt way more than the stupid splinter in his eye.
It was supposed to be easy. In and out of the crummy museum, the ring securely in his pocket.
He heard steps coming toward him. The pier vibrated.
She was getting closer.
How did he know it was a woman?
It was his wife.
“Hello, Charlie,” she said.
“Hello, Gina,” Charlie said.
She chambered a round into her Glock. The metallic click echoed across the bay.
Charlie rolled on his side so he could see her.
Gina was smiling, the gun aimed at his temple.
“You should have signed the divorce papers, Charlie,” Gina said. “Then I wouldn’t have to kill you.”
Charlie closed his eyes, waiting for her to pull the trigger.
To be continued…..
Coming Wednesday from CRIME RING
The blood was slick on the gun handle. Charlie dropped it twice before he was able to pick it up.
By the time he held the gun firmly and was ready to fire, his wife was gone.
Charlie’d been so busy trying to keep his wife from killing him he didn’t realize the cops had gotten to close.
He becomes a statue.
A burly policeman with salt and pepper hair and a drinking problem stuck the barrel of a gun in the middle of Charlie’s back; at the same time reaching around to take the gun from Charlie’s hand.
“You are under arrest,” the cop said.
I can’t go back to prison. Am I really going to have to kill this old cop to stay free?
To be continued……