Will Graham's batshit leaps in deduction are so much more valid and interesting than BBC Sherlock's so called reasoning. Sherlock would go on some pouty big brain tirade about how the killer is clearly the cousin based off the imprint of the dust layer and the way he turns on lamps meaning he has a meth habit and a need to kill or smth whilst our boy Will Graham just stares off into space, starts vibrating and perspiring like a wet excitable dog and then simply announces terrifying shit like "had to cut you open to get a decent sound out of you... anyway the killer is a violin stringer"
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pinterest, bookpalace.com, flickr [Brown's Lair, Dale Kelley], comicartfans.com, listal.com
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Owen Teague as Trick on Black Mirror episode Arkangel
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The Neon Demon (2016)
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5 Tips for a Riveting Novel: How to Add Suspense and Tension to Your Story
Ever get that feeling that your writing is lacking some crucial oomph? Today, author and designer Derek Murphy shares his advice on how to add suspense and tension to your novel:
For several years I’ve helped authors with plotting, including a previous post on 9 steps to build a strong plot and a more recent 24 step chapter outline template. But it’s not enough! Having the right turning points will help keep the momentum in your story tight, but may not hold readers’ attention.
Why do readers get bored or stop reading?
There are several reasons, but the easiest to fix are conflict and tension.
In this article I’m going to suggest some clear and easy guidelines that will help you increase the tension and conflict in your novel.
First, a quick and useful definition of the terms:
Conflict = what DOES happen.
Tension = what COULD happen.
Readers won't care what happens in your story unless you have sympathy and conflict (readers have to like your characters, and your characters must be oppressed, and the stakes must be real). Conflict is about the challenges, difficulties and problems your characters will face on their quest or goal or adventure.
As a general rule, I like to have three types of conflict in every scene.
External Conflict – nature, the antagonist’s forces, rules and regulations, world limits, etc. These are active or passive forces that prevent the protagonist from easily taking action. Every time you figure out what your character needs to do next, throw some roadblocks in the way.
Internal Conflict – your character’s fears, doubts or insecurities; or their difficult choices. Give them beliefs, opinions or desires that are thwarted and challenged. They shouldn’t dwell on their doubts all the time, but slow scenes especially can be spiced up by poking at the source of conflict and having them feel the weight of their challenges.
“Friendly Fire” – your other main characters that are friends or allies should also be sources of conflict; figure out a way to make them upset. Maybe their opinions or beliefs contrast your protagonist’s. Maybe they get their feelings hurt or your protagonist is forced to betray them, or vice versa. Even if the “good guys” are all in a room discussing plans, it shouldn’t be amicable.
It's not all fight scenes and bad guys; the slow, moody chapters where your characters reveal vulnerabilities matter also. They can't be the whole thing — something real must change in every chapter that allows the plot to move forward — but adding in different kinds of conflict to every scene will make your book much more satisfying and keep readers hooked.
Two more useful rules for narrative suspense:
1. All conflict is unplanned.
Something happens. Who, what, where, why, how? The protagonist doesn’t have answers at first, which leads to fear, uncertainty, doubt. She makes a plan to figure / answer/ discover some of these grey areas. She forms a goal, but is nervous and reflects on story questions. How will I do this, what if this happens, what’s the worst that could happen (and it should be bad).
Then show her worst fears being realized.
Show it HAPPENING.
Don’t let her just do the thing easily, and don’t let the thing happen “off-stage” and be reported back. Let the worst thing happen, make it visceral.
Smart protagonists rarely plan real conflict. They plan to avoid conflict. Conflict resists their best efforts. The plan goes wrong because something or someone opposes the plan, and resists her inquiry, which creates conflict.
As soon as she figures out one thing, something else happens, and it’s a surprise.
Don’t have your characters ask leading question or guess the surprise you’re going to reveal much later. It won’t be a twist or surprise unless it’s unexpected: not something the character has already wondered about. It has to never cross their mind. You can plant enough subtle clues to make it plausible, but don’t make it expected.
2. Dialogue is the enemy of tension.
Tension is created by the resistance of confrontation. As soon as two players get in a room together and discuss their thoughts and feelings with an honest conversation, all the tension (mystery) is gone. You need characters to constantly get interrupted, misunderstood, or make snap judgements and storm out of the room (conflict) and leave your main character to wonder about what’s really going on (tension).
So never let a conversation finish. Never give out the full truth or circumstances, at least until much later in the book. By the midpoint they may know the enemy, or at least guess enough to take action. But there should still be a twist or two revealed during or after the final battle, and twists are caused by incomplete information and the shock of a sudden reveal.
You need to string the bow, and keep pulling it tighter and tighter, without releasing it. The longer you’ve built up the tension, the more impact it will have when you release it. Don’t go too long without your characters musing on the main story questions. The stakes should be pressing enough that the characters can’t simply forget about them for several chapters or be distracted by trivial things. But also don’t give them much time to sit around thinking; for the first half of the book they should be reacting to conflict, for the second half they should be taking action based on incomplete information that puts them into greater conflict (so they can feel guilty about it).
“What happens” is the story, but “why it matters” is the beating heart of your novel that will keep readers turning pages until they get to the satisfying conclusion.
If these tips are useful, make sure to download my 24-chapter novel outline, or my checklist of crucial things you need in every scene, so you hit your NaNoWriMo word counts without getting stuck.
Derek Murphy travels full-time writing fiction and nonfiction, and dreams of castles, cabins, cats and coffee. He hopes to someday build a wilderness commune of creative geniuses in the Pacific Northwest, and in the meantime occasionally blogs at www.creativindie.com.
Top photo by João Silas on Unsplash.
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Guide to Writing Mystery Thrillers
Patreon || Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Work In Progress
Horror vs. Thriller: Fear vs. Suspense
The main difference between thrillers and horror is the effect it has on the reader. Yes, both genres are meant to “scare” the reader, but with a thriller, the ending is less predictable. It’s about the building tension that comes with the unknown. The writer’s goal is to unsettle the reader, make the fear of the unknown be the main aspect and make their heart rate rise steadily over the course of the plot. Horror is repeatedly scaring the reader, though the tension is lesser because a horror story is one of inevitable doom. It’s not so much about if, but rather when and how. Thriller is about that sweet, slow dribble of ice water down the reader’s back, while horror is splashing them repeatedly in creative and shocking ways.
Balancing the Tension
With the tension being the most important element in a thriller, you must balance this carefully and you can do so by utilizing the mystery aspect. You can build the tension with events and the steady state of unknowing, but you can also use the mystery to relieve or ramp up the suspense. Mysteries introduce time-sensitivity into the plot, as well as identifiable risk and payoff, but it also preserves that feeling of unpredictability. You need to be careful to keep the tension thick enough that the plot twist is surprising, but not unexpected. Readers should expect a dramatic shift in the trajectory, but they should be completely shocked at what it actually is.
Suspension of Disbelief
Mysteries and thrillers do not have the luxury that thriller does of a reader coming in with their sense of what is and isn’t “realistic” being thrown out the window. Readers of the mystery thriller genre expect an air of credibility and when their predictions and deductions are thwarted for something completely illogical, it isn’t a pleasant surprise. The suspension of disbelief comes in the details that may or may not be stretched for fictional purposes, but the meat of the story, the mystery and all the steps within, do not have that wiggle room. Exercise deep, critical thought when developing the plot development and the characters themselves because the reader is paying attention.
Choose the Right Antagonist
Antagonists in mystery thrillers are a great opportunity for creative freedom. Yes, readers expect the antagonist to surprise them or be clever, but your job isn’t to fool the reader, it’s to impress them with how cleverly you masked or built up the reveal of the antagonist; the result of their sleuthing. You don’t always have to choose some minor, seemingly insignificant character to be the antagonist at the end. There’s so many roads you can choose, such as making the protagonist the murderer, a family member the thief, the romantic partner the deceiver, etc. Don’t try to avoid cliches in this part of the plot, because it’s impossible. Every possible ending has been done in some way or another. Try to be original in the way you reveal them and be clever about developing the antagonist to have as much impact on the reader as possible.
Death isn’t as rampant in thrillers as in other suspenseful genres, but it’s still important to note that all death should have a purpose and a consequence. It should always serve the plot, and it should always have an observable effect on the characters. Killing characters (especially main characters) to build suspense or stakes doesn’t work and it reads as lazy. Keep the purpose and consequence in mind, and be open to death and where it takes the story.
~ How do you create a good mystery thriller plot?... It depends on what you like about the genre. If you prefer to have the majority of the story surround the actual mystery and the development of its nuance, then focus the plot around that and sprinkle the suspense throughout. If you want the mystery to be the catalyst for a bigger, more complicated emotional conflict, then structure accordingly. It’s really about what you want to say and how you would want to hear it.
~ How do you balance a subtle build up without making the twist look like it came out of nowhere?... Action and reaction. Every twist and turn should be traceable to a series of identifiable events throughout the previous chapters. Your readers should be able to see the breadcrumbs when they read the story a second time. That’s how you know the subtlety works, rather than dropping two or three breadcrumbs throughout 16 chapters and then drop the whole remaining loaf in chapter 17.
~ How do you create a spooky, thrilling atmosphere?... Writing style. It’s all about writing style, I promise. Utilize some of the staples, like shorter sentences leading up to an explosive moment, visceral vocabulary about something seemingly mundane, etc. Over-describing things to have that “this normal thing doesn’t seem so harmless anymore” or under-describing things that the reader would assume requires more focus. Either turn up the volume or turn it way down. These little aspects in the vocabulary and structure you use add up and work wonders for tension and suspense. Also:
A Guide To Tension & Suspense
How To Perfect The Tone
~ How can I make the reader like the villain, despite their actions?... I have a couple resources for this, which you may find helpful:
Writing Good Villains
Villains with good intentions
How To Write A Good Plot Twist
How To Foreshadow
Flipping Character Traits On Their Head
Calculating Emotional Reactions
Keeping Characters Realistic
Tips On Writing About Mental Illness
Character Who’s Smarter Than You
Making Characters Unpredictable
How To Engage The Reader
Including More People of Color In Your Story
“Male characters are more relatable”
Writing Good Villains
Showing Vulnerability Without Death
Character Driven vs. Plot Driven Stories
Resources For Crime/Mystery/Thriller Writers
Tips on Writing Pyschological Thrillers
Resources For Writing (Global) Period Pieces : 1900-1939
Resources For Writing (Global) Period Pieces : 1940-1969
Historically Accurate Dialogue
Tips on Introducing Backstory
Writing Other Eras
Resources For Writing The Mafia
Guide to Story Researching
Commentary on Social Issues In Writing
Resources For Writing Sketchy Topics
On Writing About Sensitive Topics
Avoiding The Romanticization of Mental Illness
Masterlist | WIP Blog
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henry: hey we killed someone!!
henry: also we had a bacchanal
richard: now that is the weirdest thing i've ever heard
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The Seven Dials Mystery and Partners in Crime, Agatha Christie
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Watching over you while you sleep? Any member. -A
Under His Microscope
Warnings; Yandere, stalker, extreme lack of boundaries, scent kink?? idk if that’s a thing…
“I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only. I would like to be that unnoticed and that necessary.”
You were his favorite film.
He yearned for photographic memory if it meant that he could recall every still frame movement of yours. To burn it into his cerebrum and engrain it into his very dna. To study your little ticks and habits even long after he shared presence with you. His own film projector within the depths of his mind’s eye that never failed to fascinate him.
As if suddenly parched, his pink tongue peeked out to run over his chapped but plush lips. He shifted his weight to lean against the wall a bit more dependently, the prolonged period of standing ultra still having taken a toll on his legs.
Though agile and careful, he didn’t quite calculate the sound of his jeans rubbing against the wall and producing a quiet noise. It wasn’t loud by any means. But in the fragile silence that was easily overwhelmed by any slight sound above a few octaves, it was heard loud and clear.
In a chain of events that caused his heart to drop, you began to shift in our sleep. Unconsciously reacting to the foreign intrusion of peace in the bed a few feet away from him. You released a moan through puckered lips and furiously flipped over to bury your head deeper into your pillow.
Whilst this was happening, Yoongi held his breath and immediately froze. It wasn’t until his feline-like eyes watched your body melt back into the mattress with ease, that he allowed his screaming lungs to breath once again.
Only until he was absolutely positive that you were deep within rem cycle, did Yoongi dare stalk forward to retrieve a closer viewing.
The very shapes and angles of your form was something Yoongi had committed to memory. He knew and worshiped every dip and crevice of your body. Your very being an oasis for his starved senses. Yet the full glory of it was always being kept away from him by flimsy clothing. A mirage of what he could have, but doesn’t. It was tragic in all honesty, to be given a slice of nirvana but never getting enough to reach minimum satisfaction. Yoongi was left always itching for his next fix. On his little nightly visits, Yoongi was always pushing and pushing for other ways to get said fix.
He had only started watching you sleep about a month ago. He knew of your address for a couple months now, but only very recently was he ballsy enough to enter your room through a window to study you. Free from any limitation as the fear of you catching onto him was eliminated.
It started to get progressively worse.
His thirst for you, that is. It was almost more real than his actual human needs.
One week, he went three days without eating. He didn’t even notice it until he nearly fainted while trying to climb up your window that he had been neglecting his needs. Due to this incident, Yoongi now has alarms set up on his phone to remind him of when to take care of himself (eating, sleeping, water, showering ect). He couldn’t risk something happening to him before getting to fully be with you like he was meant to.
On one of his earliest visits, Yoongi was startled by how enthralled he was by watching you sleep. It wasn’t as if he found the action in itself to be spectacular. It was easily deduced that it was because it was you sleeping that he was so magnetized. And like that, little things snowballed into an odd obsession of observing your rest.
When you’d utter something in your sleep that made no sense. (His favorite line being “My waffles are horny~”)
How you’d drool childishly, a stream of it hanging from side of your plump lips.
How some nights you were more active and violent, kicking and punching an unseen person by thrashing crazily in bed.
How you never seemed to be able to decipher if you were hot or cold. One minute, ripping the blankets away. The next, wrapping yourself within their warm hold once again.
His favorite though?
When you had nightmares.
Although he hated it when his baby was scared, he couldn’t deny the sick glee he got when he heard your adorably pathetic whimpers. God, it was his favorite symphony.
The first time you had a nightmare on one of his visits, Yoongi watched like an eager tourist as your face scrunched up in a puppy-like fear. It was too adorable for Yoongi to not want to see again.
He slipped his phone out and carefully captured your face, being sure his flash and ringer were off.
That photo ended up being the first of many, Yoongi finding a new hobby of trying to catch the best expressions and positions he could. He had to be careful with who had access to his device, your sleeping faces were both his lock and home screen.
It wasn’t until Yoongi began to tear his eyes away from you, that he became more aware of his surroundings. There was perhaps no better grounds for getting to know someone than inspecting their room with great focus. Yoongi began to investigate your tiny bedroom, noting the little trinkets and signs of living with fond amusement. Evidence for your hobbies were spread all over, Yoongi was quick to pick up on your love for (subject) and he must say he admired your dedication.
But it was in this period of trying to get to know the person behind the goddess that Yoongi came across his newest addictive tendency.
Filled to the brim with used clothes that were waiting for their turn at laundry day.
He felt like a sicko, but he couldn’t help it.
Like some demented vulture, he snatched a shirt from the pile and pressed it to his face. And breathed in.
The smell was syrupy like candy but held an underlining of musk that is expected from any mammal. It was in no way gross though, your natural odor being something that was oddly sugary and delightful to Yoongi. If he could make a candle out of it he would.
Now everytime he visited, he was sure to sniff at a shirt or sweater. He never dared touch your underwear however. In some odd twist of logic, Yoongi perceived that as being intrusive to your boundaries. Not keeping in mind that he was technically breaking in, but who cared about pesky details like that?
Yoongi sighed and pulled out his phone to check the time, huffing with disappointment at the lateness of the hour. He had to leave.
But before he did that, he elaborately tip-toed to the hamper.
He needed his fix.
He reached down and plucked out a tank-top before practically shoving his face into the fabric.
Inhaled. And inhaled.
He wished to ingest every molecule of you. As if he thought that if he absorbed enough, you would permanently become a part of him. Hungirly lapping at whatever leftover trace he could get of you. Yoongi would breathe in the blessed clothing until his lungs and nostrils would hum and sting with a vengeance for oxygen. Only then would he pull away.
After the ill deed was finished with, Yoongi swiftly made his way over to your window. He looked back at you, to capture a last lick of his drug before he would flee into the inky black night.
His addiction was never satisfied.
That’s why he made a mental note to bring restraints next time he visited.
A man’s patience can only go so far.
And you had a tendency to get violent in your sleep, anyway.
He couldn’t imagine the hell you would raise when you were conscious.
(Lmao this is kinda bad pls forgive me. Anyway, pls send in anymore requests and this is chinkbihh, 🔮signing off.)
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I rarely used Grindr because it was full of fake profiles and paranoid DL men, but I was in a mood that night. I was swiping through profiles when a guy messaged me his phone number. I checked out his profile but the only pic he had up was a pixelated pic of what looked like a pair of shoes. I sent him a message back saying I wasn’t interested and when he asked why, I told him because he had no pics up. He then sent a message telling me to call him and I wouldn’t regret it. I was going to block him and move on but something told me to give it a try. So, I called him.
“Wassup,” he said to me after answering the call on the second ring.
“Are you gonna send me a pic?” I asked immediately.
He laughed and said, “Why send a pic when you can come see me in public?”
“Your profile said you’re on the low. How can we meet in public if you’re on the low?”
“Ain’t nobody really in here right now. The store will be closin’ soon.”
“Store? What store?”
“Target. I’m in the snack shop part of the store. If you wanna meet up then get yo fine ass down here. Your pics look sexy as fuck, bruh.”
Flattered, I laughed a little and asked, “You’re at the Target in Fairmount Plaza?”
“Yep. I’m sittin’ at a table with my dick on brick thinkin’ about what yo head game must be like. Them lips look like they can do some damage. I ain’t never been sucked up by a dude before.”
“Nah, but I heard y’all know what to do. I need my dick slurped on and gagged on for real. I ain’t nutted in over a week.”
“Alright, let me throw on some clothes and I’ll come meet you. If you’re on any kind of bullshit, I swear I will put you on blast in public.”
He laughed again and said, “Bruh, I ain’t on that bullshit. You’ll see.”
“I’ll be there shortly.”
I ended the call and tried not to get excited or get my hopes up. I really needed some dick that night and I admit I was a little turned on by the fact that he’d never been with another guy before. True curious men were like unicorns and it was always amazing seeing their reactions to some of the things I’d do to them. Before leaving to go meet up with my Grindr hookup, I told myself that if it didn’t work out then I could still jackoff while one of my anal toys was up in my ass.
When I arrived at Target, I was a little anxious. I’d met guys in public before but something about this time felt different and I didn’t know why. I made my way to the snack shop in the store and saw two guys in there; one was at the counter talking to a cashier and the other was sitting at the table. He was sitting on top of the bench by himself so I knew it was him. He was a little too skinny for my taste but he was sexy. He did look a little rough though, like he could have been in a gang or something. Still, he was sexy.
“Wassup,” I said as I approached him. “I’m Marc.”
He gave me a look and then licked his lips before saying, “Wassup, bruh. My name’s Dre.”
I looked at him for a little while without saying anything and then asked, “Are you really into this?”
“Yeah, bruh. You good or nah? Because I need to tell my boys not to come pick me up from here.”
“You didn’t drive here?”
“I don’t have a car.”
“Oh.” I thought about it for a second and then told him, “You’re good. Come on, man.”
He hopped down from the bench and texted his friends while following me out of the store. We got into my car but I wasn’t going to take him back to my place without knowing a few things about him first. Noticing that I wasn’t starting the car, he looked at me and asked, “Why you ain’t start the car yet?”
“Because I need to know some things about you first. What’s your status?”
“Your health status? You clean or do you have something? Because I need to know if I gotta stop by another store and pick up some condoms.”
“I’m clean but if you don’t trust it then you can stop by a store and I can buy some rubbers. I need to get somethin’ to drink anyway.”
“Can I see your dick before we leave this parking lot?”
He smiled and shrugged his shoulders before reaching into his pants and underwear and pulling his semi-hard dick out. It was thick and long as fuck. I reached over to grab it and he quickly put it away and said, “Nah, you don’t get to touch until we’re at your place. Shit, you can touch it and slob on it and ride it all you want at your place.”
I was satisfied enough to start my car up and drive out of the Target parking lot. I stopped at a convenience store near my apartment so that he could buy the condoms and something to drink for himself. When he got back in the car, he put his hand in his pants and played with his dick. It took a lot of self-restraint for me not to pull over on the side of the road and suck his dick right there in my car. We made it to my apartment complex and I wasted no time getting him up to my apartment.
“I gotta warn you, I’m a freak,” I said to him while closing and locking my door. I turned around to see he had a gun aimed at my head. Fear immediately took over me as I asked, “What the fuck are you doing?”
“My bad, bruh. This shit ain’t personal.”
“Man, if you…”
“I don’t want this shit to go bad, nigga. You need to chill. All I want is whatever money you got on you and any chains or rings you might have up in this apartment.”
“All I got is forty dollars in my wallet. I got a gold Rolex in my bedroom.”
“Yes, that’s it?”
“Give me your wallet. And do it slow. This is a revolver, bruh. This shit don’t jam and it will fuck you up.” Slowly, I pulled my wallet from my pocket and handed it to him. He immediately took out the forty dollars I had inside. He then looked through it and pulled out my debit card and asked, “How much money you got in your account?”
He laughed a little and said, “Yeah, we’ll see about that.” He pointed to my sofa with the gun and said, “Have a seat.”
I sat down and while he was looking through my wallet again, I slowly pulled my phone from my pocket and texted ‘Call 911 2 my place NOW’ to my friend Kelly. When Dre looked back up, I told him, “Here’s my phone, man. Just want you to know I’m not gonna try anything tricky.”
“See, I knew you’d be easy to do this with. Most faggots do dumb shit or panic and I have to put my hands on them. I mean, I wanted to knock the shit outta you when you made me pull my dick out in the car but I ain’t gonna do you like that. My dick is nice though, right?”
“Man, I gave you the money in my wallet and you got my debit card. Why are you still here?”
“Nigga, you drove me here, remember? I’m not gonna steal your ride to get out this bitch so the cops can track me down quick. Besides, we’re gonna need you to use this card at the ATM.”
“Me and my homeboys. I gotta call them and tell them where I’m at so they can come get me and you. Well, we gotta steal your TVs and computer and shit first.” He pulled out his phone and called his friends. “Yo, Breeze, you not gonna believe this shit, nigga. I got another one, bruh. I know, right?” He laughed and continued, “Come to the River West Bank apartments off of Stafford Road. The apartment is in section C and the number is C306. A’ight, nigga. Hurry the fuck up.” He ended the call and looked at me and smiled as he said, “Now, all we gotta do is wait.”
“So, this is what you and your boys do?” I asked as I relaxed on my sofa. “You trick gay men on dating apps and rob them? That’s fucked up.”
“The world is fucked up, Marc. And don’t act like you’ve never finessed anybody out of some money.”
“I haven’t. I work for the shit I got. I work over forty hours a week at a job I fucking hate to make a living. I never had to rob anybody or do some dumb shit that could get me locked up.”
“Well, I ain’t gonna get locked up because I’m always careful.”
I looked away from him and said, “Yeah, I bet you are.”
He sat down on my lounge chair across from me and kept the gun aimed at me. After a moment of silence, he asked, “Why do you use a fuckin’ app anyway?”
“What do you mean?”
“It ain’t like you’re a bad lookin’ dude. You fuck with bitches and niggas?”
“I like men with dicks. Anything outside of that category is a no.”
He laughed and shook his head before saying, “You faggot ass niggas are a trip, I swear. What makes a man want to put a dick up his ass?”
“What makes a man do anything he wants to do, Dre?” I rolled my eyes and asked, “How long is it going to take your friends to get here?”
“They said about an hour.”
“Are you serious? Man, I got work in the morning. Look, how about me and you disconnect my TV in here and the one in my bedroom and put them by the door? We can also get my watch and other shit you can take.”
He laughed and asked, “You wanna help me rob you?”
“Like I said, I got work in the morning. I can always replace TVs and the money in my account.”
“Okay, but remember, if you try anything then I will shoot the fuck outta you.”
“Fine, whatever. Come on.”
I stood up and he stood up, too. He put the gun in his jacket pocket and we went over to my TV. I disconnected it from the cable line in the wall and unplugged it before disconnecting my Blu-ray player and soundbar system. Together, we unmounted the fifty-five-inch LED screen TV from my living room wall. Carefully, we set it down by my door. When we went into my bedroom to get my other TV, I immediately noticed I’d left my ironing board up with my iron sitting on top of it.
“Damn, the one in here is even bigger,” he said while looking at my TV.
“Yeah, it’s a sixty-five-inch,” I said.
His back was to me because he was so fixated on my TV. He took a step towards it and without leaving a single opportunity for error, I picked up my iron and hit him in the back of the head with it as hard as I could, knocking his snapback cap off. He dropped to the floor and when he slowly tried to get back up, I hit him again even harder. I then stomped his head hard. When I saw blood leaking onto my carpet, I knew he was either knocked out or dead. I quickly reached into his pocket and pulled the gun out. I honestly didn’t want to do him like that but I had no other options. Not a second later, I heard police sirens. I looked back at Dre to see he was flinching on the floor.
“Fuck,” he said while coughing. “Why you do that, man?” He grabbed the back of his head and winced in pain.
“Shut the fuck up,” I said to him as I left my bedroom. I placed the gun on my living room coffee table and opened the door just as the police were coming up the steps towards my apartment. I put my hands up and told them, “I live here. The motherfucker who tried to rob me is in my bedroom.”
I let them inside and they placed Dre under arrest and called for paramedics because of his head wounds. I almost forgot that Dre’s friends were on the way but I told the police and they quickly put a sting operation together. Four cops hid in my kitchen while three more stood in my hallway while my front door was wide open for Dre’s friends to walk in. When the five of them entered, they were immediately arrested. I couldn’t believe everything that had happened that night in my apartment. I was mad as fuck about it all but most of my anger was with myself. I shouldn’t have brought Dre back to my place since I didn’t know him. I’d always thought meeting someone out in public was the right thing to do, but I realized it takes even more precaution when dealing with dating apps.
Weeks later, I learned that Dre and his buddies were responsible for over fifty different situations involving them robbing gay and bi men they met on Grindr and Jack’d. I was their last victim and that was only by me taking dangerous chances to mess up their robbing process. What would have happened had I not hit Dre with that iron? Some of the men he and his friends had robbed were beaten and brutalized by them. One was shot in the chest and nearly died. I was lucky to have survived with no injuries but I did feel bad for all the others. To this day, I’m dealing with harassment from the families of Dre and his criminal friends who allege I lured them into a trap. Who would have known so much bad shit could come from one random hookup?
[Disclaimer]: Pictures used do not reflect the sexuality or personality of people in the pictures. They only serve as visual examples of the characters.
© D.A. Morrison 2019
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they’re so dumb, i love their team up
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Midsommar — (2019)
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"What If You Could Go Back In Time And Take All Those Hours Of Pain And Darkness And Replace Them With Something Better?"
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I wish I’d love you better and let you see me clearly without disguise. I wish I’d been a better husband. I wish I’d been a better son. I wish I’d been a better brother.
…I’m saying I built a wall around a big part of my life and I hid behind that wall and I thougth that wall kept us both safe, but walls don’t work that way.
Steve Craine - The Haunting of Hill House
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I guess we’ll have to wait until next time to find out! ;)
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1. A state or feeling of excited or anxious uncertainty about what may happen.
2. A quality in a work of fiction that arouses excited expectation or uncertainty about what may happen.
What is suspense?
The moment I started asking my beta readers ‘was this scene suspenseful,’ the majority replied with variants of ‘it was exciting and I enjoyed it, but it wasn’t suspenseful because I didn’t believe the protagonist would actually die.’
Granted, some readers may only genuinely feel excited, anxious, and uncertain about a story when they’re fearful that their favorite character might die.
But viewing suspense in fiction as nothing but the fear of character death is incredibly limiting, and holds unwitting writers back from true potential.
There is greater loss than death.
At least, there is greater loss to the character than death. Dying is easy. Losing, failing, hurting, sacrificing, growing — these things are hard.
I’m not sure whether the idea that only a potential character death can create suspense is one perpetrated by writers or by readers, or a cycle transferred between them as one becomes the other, but I’m done with it.
Because I, for one, am growing very unexcited and bored by character death for the sake of suspense.
I would much rather see more character loss for the sake of growth.
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