Flesh and Bone by Ben Hayward

"I was thinking-"

"That's never a good idea."

"Shut up. I was thinking we should write a murder mystery."

"Um, ok, why?"

"Well there's a lot of money in fiction."

"I'm not sure about that."

"Well, you have to be successful of course."

"Not to mention lucky."

"Enough of the negativity, have you got any ideas?"

"Right now, no, isn't it your idea?"

"Yeah, but I need your edgy cynicism; the crowds love that shit."

"I don't think pessimism is edgy, it's more asymmetrical."

"See that's why you're key."

"I am?"

"Where would CSI Miami be without Horatio Kane?"

"I assume it would probably be better for one thing."

"That does depend on how you measure quality."

"Granted."

"So you're on board?"

"Yes, but I'm not quitting my day job."

"That makes total sense, of course."

"Good."

"So I was thinking, and stop me if I sound crazy, that it should be about these two guys who solve mysteries for people in purgatory."

"What? That sounds-"

"Great, I know. One of them could be an edgy badass who doesn't play by the rules, and the other can be strictly by the book, all he wants to do is get that long overdue promotion."

"I'm not sure I like how much thought you've given this."

"It shows that we're serious. We could have vampires and werewolves-"

"Angels I can just about take, I'm not having any Team Jacob or Team Edward shite."

"Ok, we could have it as a series of isolated stories. The kind where these angels can dish out old
fashioned street justice."

"Remind me why do they have to be angels?"

"They just do."

"No need to get shirty. It was just an honest question, why?"

"That way we can have them travel across space and time. They can go anywhere and anywhen."

"Best idea I've ever heard."

Flesh and Bone by Solomon Blaze

She is so fucking gorgeous; my gorgeous girl...

I hate that fucking prick: the guy in the window, who’s eating the face off my ex.

That fucking bitch...whore...I sniff and wipe the snot on the worn sleeve of the jacket she gave me, I wish I could end this...I clutch my chest as if reaching for my soul; as if there’s anything left to reach for anymore...

I cock the revolver; let’s end this...

My steps across the road from the beach front feel heavy – they see me through the window before I’m halfway way; panic flashes across her face and frustrated fury on his...

Despite the warning, he takes a surprisingly long time to answer the door – ya’ lose sight as you come up to the front door, so I figured they had to freaking out; I feel myself get a little turned on...

We – he and me - end up answering the at the door at the same time...or maybe he was watching me the whole time, either way, I put the gun straight to his forehead, silencing the fucker with shock, you’ll get a real fuckin’ shock inaminute mate; proper Horror Show like...

My new best friend and I waltz into the living room together – no need to close the door, this’ll be over soon enough – and my ex, my beautiful, horse faced ex girlfriend, screams her shrill fucking head off...for about three quick seconds, before I bust a cap in the bitches left knee cap – then she really starts to holler!

‘WHAT ARE YOU DOIIIING?!?!’ the whore screams at the top of her church-girl lungs.

‘What does it fucking look like?!’ I shout back sarcastically, with the biggest grin I’ve had on my face for months.

‘Please don’t do this Mikey!!’ shouts the very daring companion of our young – five years older than I – little bitch.

I turn to him.

‘What, the fuck did you just call me?’ I say through gritted teeth, with the crazy eyes.

‘Nothing...’ he says looking to the floor like a mongrel that’s just been shouted at for jumping on the sofa.

I whirl round suddenly and confront my nemesis/saviour, ‘WHY DID YOU DO IT?!’ I bellow, with high pitched and desperate cry.

‘I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!’ she screams...

...

......

.........

‘WHAT?!’ I shriek.

‘What am I supposed to have done...?’ she squeaks timidly; she’s pissed herself; yes!

...I spend what feels like five lifetimes, just looking into those vast, colourless pools of nothing; she really has no clue what I’m talking about...

...everything I am, was and every could be, has just faded to nothing in that single moment, she has no idea, I repeat over and over again in my head, flabbergasted at how completely and utterly vapid she is...

‘Fuck this,’ I say to the ceiling, ‘and fuck you,’ I say, turning back to my end ...

In goes the gun and out goes the bullet, out through the other end of all the most precious Flesh and Bone in my entire body...

...darkness...a crazy and euphoric dream...

...I don’t think there’s a God...

...a tear...

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Flesh and Bone by Lesley Whyte

"You see that? You see how clean the cut is? Your hand should glide along the bone."

"You mean the scalpel should."

"The scalpel is an extension of your hand."

"Sure, because that doesn't sound creepy."

"Can you just...you know? Please?"

"Fine. So, my hand should glide along the bone."

"Watch me. See how I do it? You have to cleave the flesh from the bone. Carefully. Delicately. There's an almost surgical quality to the movement."

"That'd be the scalpel."

"Do you want to do this?"

"This? No. Not even a little bit. When can we get started on the real stuff? You know, the stuff we actually get paid for?"

"You're not ready."

"And you need my help."

"I know! I know I need your help, okay? So can you just shut up and watch what I'm doing here? The sooner I see you make this cut, the sooner we can get started properly."

"Like on an actual person?"

"You know we're not actually going to kill anyone, right?"

"Of course I know that. But still. People, right?"

"Just cut!"

Katy looked down at the raw rack of ribs on the table and sighed, but she picked up the scalpel anyway. "Like this?"

Flesh and Bone by Sara Travis

“Now listen here, you piece of shit,” he spits through gritted teeth. “This is the last time I’m gonna be havin’ this conversation with you. You get me?”

He plants a heavy fist in the corner of the man’s shoulder, shoving him back into the wall. He moans lightly, his eyes tiny slits, his arms held out in defense.

“I need the fucking money. So where is it?” He brings his face in closer, saliva dripping from his lips.

“I … I don’t have it …” he whimpers, trembling.

“You don’t have it,” he sighs, shaking his head in disappointment. “He don’t have it, boys. Flesh, Bone … you know what to do.”

He slowly removes his dark gloves and with one last shake of his head, turns away. In his place stand two, great, burly shadows, silhouettes in the dark, slimy alley. From the shadows, the man hears the crack of knuckles, and his legs give out beneath him.

Flesh and Bone by James D. Irwin

In hindsight he probably shouldn't have run. He was guilty, but he wasn't that guilty.

He thought he’d probably be in all the papers. He pictured his mother reading about him, maybe even seeing his face on tv. She’d be proud, he thought. He smiled.

He didn't think he’d really mind being dead. And he wouldn't die, not whilst people still remembered him-- a man is more than just flesh and bone.

He wished it weren't so cold.

Flesh and Bone by Nick Trussler

Cannibal wanted. Must like flesh and bone. Previous experience not required, but please bring your own knife and fork.

Day Four

And today's prompt is...

Flesh and Bone