For the A to Z challenge, I present Murder Most Fowl, an unedited serial story from the unpublished Cera Chronicles. Please excuse the grammar mistakes. This hasn’t been critiqued yet. If you’re just diving into this story, you may want to start with part A.
Undertaker Coleman ushered us from the office, toward the building across the street. “Business is booming. Massacre Molly’s reignin’ terror down on our town, and the good people need some reassurance that everythin’s well in hand.”
I raised my eyebrows and glanced sidelong at Molly. She shrugged and waggled her fingers. “I got some mystical powers too.”
She did? Despite my amazing abilities, I still couldn’t be in two places at once. Unless he meant literally raining—I could do that.
“Quickly now.” Coleman pulled open a door. Noise spilled out, nearly drowning his words. “Inside. The people are waitin’.”
I shook my head. “You know, we aren’t actually—”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Coleman shouted, shoving us ahead of him out onto a platform. “Please calm down. The marshalls are here.”
The crowded hall quieted and turned to face us as one writhing mass.
These poor frightened people. “Don’t worry,” I said to the crowd. “Whoever it is terrorizing your town is just an imposter. The real Massacre Molly is standing right here. See?” I waved to her.
The people stared at me. Then someone screamed. Cattle started to stampede. Humans ran to escape.
Bartholomew lifted his shotgun and fired. The hall seized into sudden stillness and silence, making the creaks and crash of falling ceiling plaster thunderous in comparison. Sunlight poured through the fresh hole.
I leaned close to him and cupped my hand to my mouth. “You’re probably going to have to pay for that…”
The doors at the far end of the hall banged open. A figure filled the entrance–hat shadowing the top half of his face and stubble dressing his chiseled jaw. Light glinted off the sword hanging at his hips. Men stumbled backwards, distancing themselves from the newcomer. Women swooned.
Bartholomew redirected his aim. Coleman drew a compact ray-gun that cranked and expanded to a full-size cannon…which he held in one hand.
Molly fanned herself, a blush rising to her cheeks. “Now that is one mighty fine lookin’ fella.”
I couldn’t argue.
Seth had that visceral charm about him.
His gaze locked on me, and he started stalking the distance. People scrambled to flee his path. Metal rang as he drew his weapon. “Who do I need to kill?”
The entire room tensed. Well. Almost.
I glanced down at hole in my corset. “Oh. That was Fues.”
Seth glared at the pygmy and growled. Fues grinned and ducked behind Michael.
Molly sighed. “Does that mean he’s a weirdo too?”
My second to last companion scanned our group, settling on the bird. “This is one of those worlds?”
Huh? One of what—
An explosion shook the building. Through the open doorway, I saw a long leather duster hanging on a feminine bovine figure.
Thanks for reading! If you want to start at the beginning, find it here. Don’t forget to visit other bloggers participating in the A to Z Challenge.
Do you have any criticism? Suggestions? Wild, off-the-wall ideas of “you know what would be funny…?” Let me know in the comments. I’d love to hear them.