Who Put You To Sleep?
Ficlets and Ficly survivor, FicMom, and Mistress of Well-Intentioned Indecision and Goddess of Unrequited Love. @ElshaHawk @HawkandYoung
To Detective Hawk, the more she examined the scene, the more she felt the whole thing was an accident, an illusion. The ink was spilled, not spilling from her body. She lay slumped, not in a defensive pose. There were no glasses of drink, no tubes for gas, no pills, nothing to suggest foul play. She leaned close to the winged angel, her breath stirring stray ringlets of hair, looking for a mark on her alabaster skin.
Pulling on a glove to preserve the scene, even though her gut told her she didn't need to, she touched the nape of the muse's neck. She felt for bumps, pressing just hard enough to feel the contours in the sinew and bone.
There. An anomaly in the shape of a circle, nearly imperceptible. She pressed it.
The angel gave a small gasp and stirred, first an arm, then a shoulder. She sat up slightly and listened first to the quick, shallow breaths of the Detective. Then she blinked to clear her sight and set her crystalline eyes upon her revivist.
"Who put you to sleep?" breathed Hawk.
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
Comments (2 so far!)
Average reader rating 5.00/5
A classic murder mystery! This promises to be great.
- #1979 Posted 3 years ago
- 5 out of 5
I woke my muse in the last 2 years and she has cried many a tear from her crystal blues, but she wrote dutifully with her quill in ink all that she felt.
- #4363 Posted 1 year ago
Inspired by (sequel to):
Detective Hawk reached a gloved hand to the light switch. In the moment before the room was bathed i…Who Killed my Muse?
- Published 3 years ago.
- Story viewed 10 times and rated 1 times.
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