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I’m still working on my occult detective story. A problem I ran into is that the original draft started with the protagonist (Isa) and did not present to the reader a body, as the genre is meant to do. I’m not averse to playing against genre rules in my fanfiction, but for a story I am interested in publishing someday soon, I figure I need to adhere more closely to what’s expected of me. My writer/editor friend Kate Johnston suggested a prologue.

I hashed this out in an afternoon. My hope is that it provides the reader with the body necessary to get this occult murder mystery adventure started. If you’re interested, take a look and let me know what you think?


She shut her eyes tight, because she didn’t want to see his face. She wished she could stop breathing, too, to not smell the leather of his gloves or the oil in his beard. In fact, she wished she were dead in this moment, so she wouldn’t have to feel his hands, his mouth, his hips, his…thing. She couldn’t call it a cock or a dick or anything recognizable as human. Because if he was human, then this was real. This was happening. He was a rapist; she was his victim.

A surge of defiance rushed through her at the thought. She’d never been a victim. She wouldn’t start now.

She gritted her teeth and forced her eyes to open. His eyes were open, but they didn’t see; they were lost in his lust. She filled herself with hatred and balled a fist. With all her might, she smashed it against his ear.

He yelped, stopped, pulled out of her. His eyes focused now, red with rage. He growled a slew of names at her: Whore. Slut. Bitch. She shrieked at him in reply, cursing his life, his family, his drippy little swizzle-stick—

His fist hit her in the face. Her head snapped back, and she heard something splinter. Plaster, maybe, or her nose. She saw white, then red, then everything turned dim. Her body went heavy, and as if from far away, she heard someone shout her name. Though she knew it couldn’t be him, she wanted it to be Kalle. Except Kalle wouldn’t call her name. He’d call her Mom.

She needed to get up. She needed to get out of here, get home, get back to her son. Most of all, she needed to make sure the bastard who did this to her didn’t get away with it.

It was with that thought of harsh and swift revenge that the world around Rhona Swift went dark, her spirit left to scream in the void.