Deputy Sheriff Steven Johnson had only been on the job for two weeks before finding the body. It was lying on the floor in the middle of the small police station, between two desks, in a pool of drying blood, face up and spread eagle. It was his boss, Sheriff Bradley Metzger.
After Johnson vomited in the waste basket underneath his desk, he set about examining the crime scene.
The front door to the station had been locked when Johnson arrived that morning, and nothing appeared out of place. In fact, with the exception of the dead body on the floor, the office looked exactly as it did the night before when he locked up for the night.
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3 comments:
Hmm, a little incomplete. But I marvel at how cleanly you write. I zipped through the words and was like "buh?" when it ended. Usually I'm very conscious of when something isn't flowing, and sir, your words flow.
I just bought some writing books, and you follow a lot of the rules they're talking about, from what little you gave.
Why so short, pardner?
Just not finished with it. Most of the stuff I post here is incomplete, just random thoughts or ideas, really.
I actually follow writing rules? Man, I'm gonna have to stop that. ;)
Crucial rules to writing, like, not being too flowery an dnot using a billion adverbs that bog up the prose like a rotting drain. And grammatically, you're a charm. (Except one thing, it'd be "Dead Body Lyin' There" as lay is the past tense of lie--it's such a weird word, it's taken me forever to figure it out, and coming from a grandma like mine, it's important that I do)
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