Frozen puddles

Bland cream pastel walls, sterile, with no semblance of human interaction. It looked a lot like a room suited for an interrogation, a mafia led interrogation. A room designed to convey the subtle message of fatality either ways you answered.

“Right, what else do we have here other than the victim?”

“Excluding the mug and table, nothing else.”

“Any finger prints or DNA tissue obtained?”

“No finger prints. Aimee is working on the victim as we speak, but nothing’s turned up.”

“Any ideas on the mug content?”

“Other than remind me of luka’s diaper contents last night, we’re stumped on that as well.”

They both smiled.

“Whatever happened here, that mug seems to be the only evidence of a storm that occurred.”

“Premeditated or random?”

“Definitely premeditated.”

His phone rang.

“Inspector Morris here….. right…. any clue as to the cause of death?”.

“Turns out the victim is an amateur sculpture at some Michigan college …”

“Won’t be far-fetched to assume that’s mud?” pointing to the mug.

“No speculations Jake. What  brought him way out here?”

In response to the writing challenge flash fiction for aspiring writers hosted by Priceless Joy click on the link to visit the blog. The photograph is from the lovely artycaptures (interesting photo can’t wait to see all the stories it inspires) and the challenge is to write a 100 – 150 words (+/- 25 words) story inspired by it. Do click on the link for other stories.

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