where the writers are
Mini-Death Tale: MURDER

In return for her lovely review of This is How You Die, here's the third "mini-death" thank you story. The reviewer drew "MURDER" from my remaining cards, but you can get a result from the http://www.machineofdeath.com/ site, too.

If you want a mini-death tale of your own, just write a review of This is How You Die wherever you'd like, and link it back to this page for me (or my facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/aprostrophen).


From the moment the printout had fallen into the tray, she knew there was no way to avoid it changing her life. So she made three choices:

One - she would live life without paranoia, and beyond a healthy sense of safety, she would not live in fear.

Two - she would do the things she wanted to do, and she would start immediately. She booked her first plane ticket that morning.

Three - she would train, and train hard, so that when it came to pass, she would be able to do her level best to take her murderer down with her.

The book deal had sprung from the blog which had sprung from the social media updates. Her approach to her test result had been gone viral. "Not A Victim" was released, and hit best seller status, and that clip of her being interviewed about her moment of decision when "MURDER" had printed on her slip of paper was one of the most viewed clips on YouTube.

Fame had never been part of the plan, which was why she was hiking through the woods near her home town, with no one the wiser. This had been her original intent - explore, enjoy, breathe.

She paused to take a drink of water, then turned to start down the slope, and her foot went out from under her.

She rolled, tumbled, and crashed at the bottom of the ravine. Her heart hammered in her chest, but she laughed out loud.

Adrenaline aside, it wasn't like she would fall to her death or anything.

When she tried to rise, two problems presented themselves: one, her ankle was absolutely broken; two, her ankle was also wedged tight between two very large rocks at the bottom of the ravine.

"Shit," she muttered. She went for her cell, but the screen was a spiderweb of broken glass, and it wouldn't turn on.

This was going to suck. She wondered how long before she was rescued - and then, darkly, wondered if her rescuer might be the one. Sliding off her backpack, she found her gun, knife, and tazer. She nodded to herself.

Nothing to do but wait. Maybe she'd see an animal or two. She rubbed her head, feeling a little woozy from the fall and the pain in her ankle. How long, she wondered, until someone found her? At least she knew exposure and starvation were off the list of possibilities.

"Not a victim," she said.

Still, this was definitely going to suck.

Behind her, and unnoticed by her, a crow landed on a branch, watching her. A few moments later, after the first cawed, a second landed, making a pair.

Then a third.