The Writers' Block #56 - Psychic Distancing
1. The church bells rang for evensong in the village of Much Dribbling. They could be heard throughout the area, down the valley, over the stream, across the lawns of the biscuit-tin cottages in their idyllic spring sunshine. Swallows seemed to swirl within and around the sound, flying high then low over the dead body.
2. Distant church bells could be heard in the picturesque hamlet of Little Dribbling. Jayne Beresford, had been sitting in her garden, sipping her Lady Grey tea, trying to read a book that was of little interest to her. Swifts screamed overhead. Now she lay dead.
3. Death Amongst The Hollyhocks was definitely the worst book ever written. Jayne Beresford sighed and let it slip onto her lap. She sipped some Lady Grey tea and followed a honeybee’s flight until it landed on one of her prize alliums. Today has been a good day, she thought. ‘Is that you, Philip?’ she asked, sensing movement behind her. The blackbird, in the flowerbed, looked up and flew away, shrieking, as she writhed on the ground, her blood flowing freely.
4. Philip dropped his wheelbarrow and ran over to her. Jayne now lay on the lawn, lifelessly staring at her award-winning alliums. The book she had been reading lay open by her side, covered in blood. He fumbled for his mobile as a robin nipped into view, stole a woodlouse and left. As he nervously dialled 999 he glanced around, then dropped the knife down the old wishing well. It landed with a distant ‘ploop’.
5. My hands were shaking. As she writhed by my feet, gasping for her final breath, I couldn’t believe I had done it. I stared at my fingers, dripping with her blood, so deliciously red, so pungent, so necessary for life… and I laughed as she stopped twitching. A rook flew over, casting a momentary shadow, its caw quite jarring in the stillness of the evening. Jayne was dead - at last.