Here is my Weekend #freewrite short story hosted by @mariannewest
The three prompts are:
- "I like hats." That’s what Donald said the day before he killed Sally.’
- She found him in the Terminal Bar and Grill. He was sober for a change.
- The time he caught a fly ball
The Fedora
"I like hats." That's what Donald said the day before he killed Sally.
The slim revolver peeked out of his jacket when he arrived at the train station. Donald's face was shadowed by the brim of a black fedora. He looked around the restaurant casually seeking Sally. He'd brought a sachel of bills as requested.
Donald's wife, Sally, sat in a table close to the door in a blood red dress. She was impeccable, as always. Her demand for money for silence about his affair with a congresswoman was going to be fulfilled.
He strode to the table of the mother of his children.
She smiled up at him as he approached. He sat the sachel down in front of her.
"Donald," she purred, "the hat suits you."
His hand lifted slightly as he smiled into her sparkling blue eyes. His finger pulled the trigger and the sinister report of the silencer whistled in the air. Her flexing fingers dropped to the side of her chair as blood began to seep through a perfect hole in her chest.
He adjusted the fedora and quickly moved to the alley, tossing the gun in the sewer drain.
Alana tired of calling his cell phone with no response, called a driver and began going systematically to each of his favorite watering holes. She found him in the Terminal Bar and Grill. He was sober for a change.
Donald was staring at a television on the bar wall, a glass of untouched bourbon on the bar. Several bills lay next to the glass. She lay her hand on his arm and his head whipped to see her face.
"Don?"
"What are you doing here, Alana?" he growled.
"Baby, I was worried when you didn't pick up the phone!"
He leveled his gaze and studied this woman who he just committed murder to protect. What the hell happened to him?
The game on the bar TV exploded in applause as the catcher on the defence team caught a fly ball. Donald smiled ruefully as he contemplated his youth and promise as a scouted talent the time he caught a fly ball and the bleachers exploded with shouts and applause. From rising star to killer. He picked up the bourbon and downed it in one swallow.
Two police burst into the bar entrance.
"FREEZE!"
Donald tossed his fedora on the bar and slowly raised his bare hands, palms out.
The end.
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