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Murder Is But A Memory

by

This dame was a hundred fairy princesses, a thousand Christmas mornings, a million sunrises all rolled into one and poured into a red dress so tight you'd swear on a stack of Bibles higher than the Empire State Building that she was born wearing it. She had a white pillbox hat tilted lazily on the side of her head, curly brown hair wistfully streaming out from under it, both haphazardly and elegantly all in the same moment. She clutched a small white purse like it was Pandora's Box and she was guarded with keeping the lid on the damned thing...

2 comments add one below

  • avatar

    D.M. over 5 years ago

    You've got the lingo! 'Looking forward to more.

  • avatar

    Drew Martyn over 5 years ago

    Instead of reeling off a list of authors this reminds me if I'll just say this could have been written by any of them. Superb!

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