TotenFolio

Snatch blinked and squeezed his eyes shut until bright splotches of color splashed behind his eyelids. He sucked a deep breath in past his dry lips and forced his eyes open.

The Reaper, in his old farmer guise, looked at him.

“I just don’t know who Danielle is,” Snatch whispered.
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Snatch heard his heart thudding in his chest. He didn’t feel his heart thumping in his ribcage.

He truly heard it.

He looked at the back of his eyelids; his eyes, still closed.

A familiar smell floated under his nose and he swayed in his seat. Dizziness swept through him and made his brain feel as if it shifted from side to side inside his skull. The smell of Vodka, gin, whiskey and rum surrounded him.
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I’m going to go ahead and admit that I love my computer. I use it for everything. Email, graphic design, television shows and writing. Everything that I do, I depend on my desktop or one of the several laptops I have at my disposal.

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Snatch looked at the clock and watched the second hand twitch in place as the last charges of the battery died out, and the incessant ticktock gave way to momentary silence. His eyes shifted to the open door.

A bony, well-dressed woman stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. Snatch stared at her hands, knotted and gnarled, and covered in liver spots. He looked up at the woman’s sunken cheeks and hollow, brown eyes.
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Snatch sat at the oak table in the dimly lit room and stared down at the cold cuffs that pinched the skin around his wrists. He stared at his distorted reflection in the silver cuffs and curled his lips to show his teeth. He ran his tongue against their yellow surfaces and realized his mouth tasted stale.

The room, lit with only a single light bulb, was a conference room the officers had hastily turned into an interrogation room. Now, he was alone, while the police argued outside the room about who would question him.
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“The blinking red light in the night sky –

He is the Watcher; the all-seeing eye –“

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A few weeks ago, I started saving all of my blog’s comment spam and putting all of the spam comments together. Rather than just deleting everything as I usually do, I’ve been reading each and every message and surprisingly, I’ve been amused.

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Laura shoved Snatch’s head against the wall.

The impact dazed him and he peered through tunnel vision with his teeth clenched. His temples shook like drum heads stretched too tight.

“Was that a threat?” Laura asked.

Snatch didn’t answer. He couldn’t answer. His mind raced and sent words to his mouth, but the single impact of his forehead against the wall left him speechless, stunned; her action surprised him, shocked him.
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Snatch turned the sledgehammer around in his grip and glanced at the dark brown weighted head. On the end of the sledgehammer’s head, a stain turned the brown metal a sick mixture of purple, crimson and rust-red. Snatch licked his teeth behind his pursed lips and chewed the inside of his mouth.

“Rat,” Snatch said. “I killed a rat.”

Laura exhaled. “Maybe you should try to kill that snake I saw?” She forced a laugh in an attempt to ease out of the tense situation.
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The ground lurched beneath Snatch and he stumbled forward several steps before the ground punched him in his jaw. He recoiled from the pain and reached up to his chin.

A line of blood trickled from his chin.

It took a couple of seconds for Snatch to piece together what happened. When the ground moved under him, like someone snatching a rug from under his feet, he fell. The ground hit him, or he hit it.
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