I’ve gotten back into the habit of writing these on my own and decided that I should start posting them again.
Any first sentences you’d like to see turned into short stories, please send my way.
Who would have poisoned the old man’s dog?
Well there were plenty of suspects if the truth be told.
The old man was seeing the very fine looking widow McGoratte who runs the yarn shop on High Street. She had a bit of an evil streak to her.
He owed money to his Barber after all those poker games lasted until three in the morning.
There were times when Big Al at the drug store would give the old man the evil eye. Folk say that he shoplifted from Big Al, Big Al’s daddy and Big Al’s grand daddy all the way back to when the old man was in diapers.
Hell, Cecil who bags groceries at the corner general says that it was widow McGoratte’s undead husband who came back to avenge his wife’s purity.
But all of that is foolishness.
The dog poisoned itself.
You don’t think that a dog would kill itself? Well it didn’t. I was the one who sold the dog that concoction, just enough to knock it out for a day and a half. I’d bet you a million dollars that if you checked that grave tonight you’d find it empty.
That dog had plans, big plans. He knew things about the old man that would turn your spine to jelly. The dog hasn’t left town yet, but he will soon. And that old man will be the last to see him before he leaves for good.
