I took a few liberties with the rules of this week's 55 Word challenge:
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He approached them as they played near the surf. Their little white summer dresses rippled in the breeze, pretty little girls.

Sheriff Roberts shoved him face down in the sand.

“I knew I’d find you here, Williams. I'm going to take you in. Though, in my opinion, prison’s too good for a pedophile like you.”

The worst kind of monsters aren't fictional
 
It's Friday Picture Show time again.
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How many houses have I seen in my rear-view mirror?  

Another devastated wife stands in the doorway.  Her tears ruin her makeup.  Little Tommy cries.  He can't understand why his father would leave him.  What am I supposed to say?  Sure, it hurts, but I can't change the way things are.

I know I should feel something.  Some remorse for leaving them that way, but I just can't let myself.  There is no room for tears.

When it's time to go, I'm the one to take him away.  It's my job.  There's a reason why they call the reapers grim.


 
I missed the deadline but at least I got to see the prompt!
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The delights of knowing the end are short-lived.  Like reading a book in reverse, I've seen my life play out in all of it's joys and pains.  It wasn't knowing how I would die that ruined it for me.  It was knowing how I would live.

I spent every moment of my five year marriage, pouring affection on her, hoping I could somehow change fate.  Still that day came and she said the words no husband ever wants to hear:  "The doctor says I have cancer."

It didn't matter that I quit smoking or that we exercised every day.  Time sloughs along inexorably leading to an end that cannot be changed.

Still worse than that year of watching her suffer was this morning when  I met the woman who would help me to forget.


 
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One of my favorite Motivation Monday regulars J Whitworth Hazzard has tagged me in the Lucky Sevens blog contest/game. A consistently excellent writer in nearly every genre I can throw his way. Check out his blog, and see what he's working on.  You won't be sorry.

Here’s how it works:

1.  Go to page 7 or 77 in your current manuscript.
2.  Go to line 7.
3.  Copy down the next seven lines/sentences as they are – no cheating.
4.  Tag seven other authors.

ADHD writer that I am, i have a dozen manuscripts from short story to full novel length.  I'm working through the edits on the novel Full Moon City.

Page 77 Line 7 of "Full Moon City"

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...
"And yet, you are my go to guy when it comes to information."

"A guy hears a thing or two in my line of work.  But sharing information freely is bad for business."

"Did you know that Lucky was already dead?"

Ray's smile vanished.  "How would I know something like that?"

"Stranger things have happened..."


Tag You're it!

  1. Siobhan Muir   @SiobhanMuir
  2. TL Tyson            @TL_Tyson
  3. Sessha Batto    @SesshaBatto
  4. Shalini Boland    @ShaliniBoland
  5. CourtneyCole    @courtwritesYA
  6. Al Boudreau    @threecifer
  7. Stacey McIntosh @StaceyJMcIntosh

 
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Norman walks down by the river to remember their time together.  He feels the silky strands of her honey hair.  Her milky cheeks blushed when he kissed her hair.  Her icy blue eyes, cutting deep into his soul, quivered when he stroked her face.  He shudders at the memory of her lips, which trembled like rose petals in the breeze.  Sometimes he still hears her voice as the wind whistles through the trees.  She is still there.  She will always be with him. 

He walks down by the river to remember her, and to make sure nobody's found the body.


 
Same title very different storyline
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Who’d have thought we’d call you the lucky one? You tried to warn us they were coming, but we mocked you. After all you’d done for us; you entered the grave in ignominy. When the dragons came, we died by the tens of thousands, the streets filled with the fallen - never to be properly buried.

55 Words
by Wakefield Mahon
from Rise of the Dragons

 
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The doctors told me I was lucky; there is no way I should have survived that car crash. I am inclined to agree with them.

It took two years of grueling work in rehab to learn how to walk again, a year in speech therapy to learn how to speak like a normal human being. They performed six reconstructive surgeries before I stopped looking like Frankenstein’s bride. But that wasn’t nearly the most painful part:

“Happy Birthday, son; I thought we’d come out to your favorite place on the pier. I brought you balloons.”

Lucky? Precited is more like it.