The Blood of Remorse



copyright-Kent Bonham

A disturbing murder case was weighing heavily on Jim Delaney’s mind as he walked up his sidewalk.  A sound came from the storage shed. Jim unholstered his pistol, not willing to take any chances after a day like today. He saw movement and instincts took over.

Jim unmasked the bloody body and nearly threw up. Stumbling into the house, he opened a bottle of whiskey. As he drank, he spotted a note:

I finally got you! Meet me at Finnegan’s and we’ll get drunk.

Jim’s pistol fired one last shot, leaving the wall stained with the blood of remorse.


* * * * * * * * *

The above story is my submission to Friday Fictioneers. For those of you that don’t know, Friday Fictioneers is a group of bloggers from around the world who respond to a photo prompt of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields choosing with a story of approximately 100 words. Find more fictioneers here.


21 thoughts on “The Blood of Remorse

    • Ya, this went all wrong. I guess a bad day can get worse.

      When I saw this picture I thought of a storage shed. I did not even consider the fact that it was a stage light until I read other stories. Oh well. Thanks for reading

  1. you left lots of room but still the whole story was told. at least i think i got it. it’s well done. prank gone wrong. the note….?

    • Yes, you got it. Jim’s friend was going to scare him then run away with hopes Jim would meet him at the bar later. When I wrote it the first time, it was almost two hundred words. I may have cut out a little too much. Thanks for the comment.

  2. i guess the stress of the job was just too much to have any room for such a prank. that guy at finnegan’s is going to have some heavy guilt on him the rest of his life. wouldn’t be surprised if he faces the same fate. well done.

  3. Good but sad story. A lot of blood in the description but it made it real.That was a fatal April Fool’s Day for those two characters. You don’t fool around when your friend is a cop who carries a loaded weapon and is prepared for danger.

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