Cozy readers—and especially Chicks on the Case readers—are some of the most creative folks on the planet so we’re asking you to play Chick Pic with us! In the comments, give us a couple of sentences … who is this? What’s her back story? Victim, criminal, detective, murderer, spy? The more ridiculous the better! The subject may look familiar, but remember, things aren’t always as they seem. Each comment can build on the previous until we have a fully-fleshed out character, or even the beginnings of a story. Or if you don’t like the direction the comment thread is going, start a new one. Writing is all about rewriting, after all. Let’s have some wacky creative fun!
Mom? Mom! Why am I tied up in bed? What are you doing with those scissors?
They looked like ordinary safety scissors. But Marcy had honed them to a fine edge. They should do the job nicely.
The question was where to start. Hair? A fingernail, perhaps? Or maybe an earlobe. That would be interesting.
She hated to do it, but then she knew it was for good. She licked her lips, and her eyes bulged. Marcy imagined how she looked, like Kathy Bates as Annie in Stephen King’s Misery. One thought on an endless loop — some things just have to be done.
Because Celia, the annoying editor-in-chief, had to go. Marcy imagined snipping her boss as ruthlessly as Celia hacked every third word of Marcy’s daily column at the Twinkle Towne Tribune.
The brilliant part of Marcy’s plan was *everyone* in her office had a pair of those orange scissors. No one would ever pin the blame on her…
“No one will ever, EVER take my typewriter,” Marcy fumed to herself. “I will die protecting it and take anyone who tries stealing it down with me. Everyone knows computers suck your soul out of your body straight into them. That’s how they’re powered. By human souls.”
Marcy was surprised that no one had found her staring through the sheers to be at all creepy as she planned out what she was going to do with them.
But then again, few of her co-workers ever paid much attention to her, as they found her somehow beneath them. Which made her stop and think, “These scissors would work equally well on Matt…and Linda and Roberto and Aisha!”
Marcy delighted in the irony that she would be the one to write Celia’s obit. “It’ll be a moving tribute,” she thought. “Too bad Celia will never get to read it!”
However, she smirked at the irony of reading Celia’s obit in an actual newspaper, clipping it out with those same deadly orange scissors, and posting it on the Tribune’s community bulletin board.
LOL!
Marcy grinned as she contemplated the “editing” job ahead. Her one regret? That she didn’t bring her pinking shears.
Ha! A fitting ending. We need to write this one up.
Haha! I’m IN!!
Celia risked a glance backwards. Suddenly, it occurred to her that that danger in the old saying was when someone else was doing the running.