The entries I wanted to share with you are titled Death by High Heels, Sounding Waters, and Envy. Really look at how the authors managed to include all the makings of a great story in just a few short paragraphs.
Death by High Heels:
Cops hate it when you vomit all over their crime scenes. That was a mistake I had no desire to make again. So as I fought the urge to hurl, it occurred to me that they probably weren’t going to be too thrilled that I had trampled all over this one. Well, crap. If only I hadn’t answered the door, I’d be eating dinner instead of standing in my neighbor’s apartment looking at a dead guy.
I’d spent a hell of a lot of time at crime scenes lately. Even caused a couple I’d really like to forget. My name is Kimberly Murphy and I’m a private investigator. In my line of work I’ve seen plenty of weird things but this had to be one of the weirdest. The guy was just sitting there in the chair. It would have been okay if not for all the blood and his guts spilled onto his lap. I tore my eyes from him and asked the question I most wanted the answer to.
“What the hell did you hit him with?”
Not only did this have tension, but it was also funny. Loved it.
Seraphix was used to the awkward stares, but today felt different. From the moment the waterhole was in sight, she had felt a strong presence of eyes on her. She brushed off the paranoia and dropped her buckets on the ground beside the water.
“You‘re not like they say you are,” came a deep and unfamiliar voice.
She whirled around and for a brief second made eye contact with the man. She recognized him; she’d seen him here at the waterhole before. Turning her back, she continued dipping water into her buckets.
“I’ve wanted to tell you that for a long time, but I could never catch you without anyone else nearby,” he said.
Can you feel the tension in just a short amount of words?
Ok, I thought to myself, the water isn’t that scary. One toe edged closer to the gray-tinted waves crashing onto the beach. In the early morning it seemed that the entire world was still sleeping, other than the waves, of course. They were lively, dancing across the horizon in restless ripples. When those ripples reached the sand in front of me I was tempted to take a gigantic step back. My dad was terrified of the ocean, even though he’d grown up on the island. I guess he thought it might eat him or something otherwise illogical, considering he was a man of medicine. Doctors should be more rational, right?
Still, he’d shipped me to the island, but not without a stern, pointed-finger warning that I was to go nowhere near the water. Period. Even if I happened to be on fire I should find anything besides the ocean to put myself out.
Sure thing, Dad. Where is this hypothetical fire supposed to come from anyway? Spontaneous combustion induced by being socially impaired?
Again, this one nailed it.
What do you guys notice about these pieces? What did they have in common?