Hi, first off thanks for even considering helping! This a short story submission I'm sending into a magazine, Palm-Sized Prompts. It's prompt states
that your character needs to do something but doesn't have the right tool, so he has to improvise. Just looking for any feedback or fresh eyes to
notice any inevitable errors, thanks!
Reaves donned the White shoe protectors and ducked under the tape, entering into the cramped apartment. He closed the door on the officer outside and
walked past a room with a blood stained cradle, past a crumpled body of a teenage girl lying in the hallway.
“Reaves,” Detective Carter greeted him, a puff of smoke balling up towards the rotating fan above them as he spoke. Reaves eyes trailed it, taking
in the specks of blood that covered the roof and walls. More rose from the bed in the far corner in lines and arcs.
“An unhappy ending, you think?” Carter smirked as he followed Reaves’ gaze to the naked body.
“You’re the Detective, you tell me.” Reaves let his gaze linger on the body, before taking out his notepad and beginning to scribble in it.
Carter leaned sideways, craning his neck to see what he was writing. Reaves tilted the notepad away, finished writing, and re-pocketed it.
“You’ll see what it says in the report,” Reaves said facing him. Carter exhaled loudly, crunching the cigarette into an ashtray.
“Another one, huh?” Carter spoke after a minute, “this perp’ sure gets around fast.”
“Is that some sick type of admiration? This is the work of a sick mind, an evil son of a #.”
Carter moved fast. He grabbed Reaves by his collar, and pulled him close before Reaves had even blinked. “You listen here,” he whispered.
“Don’t for a second think I wanted this to happen. You just keep your mouth shut and take those little # photos of yours and we can be on our
merry way. OK?”
Carter released him, walked over to the window and leaned against the sill. Reaves breathed in deeply, calming himself. He laid his toolkit on the
floor and flipped the switches back.
“No!” he moaned.
“What is it?”
“I must have switched cases with Ruiz at the station. There’s no markers in here.” Reaves scanned the room for something he could use, noticing
a yellow box of matches on the floor two feet away. He leaned over and picked them up.
“Ah, don’t open that!” Carter began, shuffling forward as he dug through his pockets. “I think their mine.”
“I only need the cover for a marker, you can have the matches.” Reaves slid the box open, startling at the sight of a red lump of flesh lying
where the matches should’ve been. He dropped the box, the lump of flesh falling out onto the floor. It was an ear. Reaves noticed writing on the
box, barely noticeable under the blood.
Call me x.202-555-0131
Reaves looked up from the box in time to see Carter unholster his pistol and aim it right at him.
“I told you not to open it.” He muttered sadly. “Officer, get in here quick!” he shouted.
Reaves was still crouched down with his mouth hanging wide open when the officer ran in.
“Now Reaves, explain yourself!” demanded Carter, a smirk faintly visible on his lips.