Murder Most Fowl – Part T #atozchallenge

For the A to Z challenge, I present Murder Most Fowl, an unedited serial story from the unpublished Cera Chronicles.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.

The musty funk of mummified flesh wafted from behind the bars segregating the empty Sheriff’s Office. A skeleton grinned at us, its arms dangling through the cell door slots. The floral pattern of the exotic rug was quite pretty, if not a little…oh, never mind. Those were bloodstains. I plopped down into the only cushioned chair, and kicked my legs over the arm. “Twenty percent. It’s really quite a bargain. I save your son’s life, and you give us a cut of Molly’s reward.” I wanted the money to rent a cart and go look for my other two companions.

Bartholomew bit down on his toothpick and glowered at Joe. “Not sure he’s worth that much.”

Michael yanked a dirty wanted poster from the bulletin board. “On the contrary, it would seem he is worth 37.28%. At least, that is what the bounty on his head equals out to.”

Joe leaned forward and squinted at the depiction of his upper half. “Hey Pa, look. I’m famous!” Even in the drawing, he didn’t have a shirt.

Bartholomew slapped a hand over his face and groaned. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be a happily married man right now.” He parted his fingers and peered at me. “His mother left when he was born. Took one look at the babe, dumped him in my arms, and walked out. He’s been the bane of my existence since.”

Fues poked his head in through the window from outside. “Your problem. My meal.” He jabbed Joe with his spear.

I frowned at the pygmy. “We can’t collect the reward if you eat him.”

Michael studied the paper. “It says here he shot and killed the sheriff of…” He looked up. “Graverock? We are in Graverock.”

That explained the Help Wanted sign in the window.

Molly gazed up at her own poster on the wall. “If there ain’t a sheriff, then I’m free to go, right?” She cast a sidelong glance at Joe. “Since, unlike you, I haven’t killed anyone.”

Joe scratched his chest. “I’d done wondered why they stuck me in that cell. Funny thing is, I don’t remember shootin’ no one.”

The door swung open and a loose-jowell man strode inside before stumbling to a halt. “Are you the marshalls?”

I looked him over. “Are you the new sheriff?”

“No,” he said. “I’m the undertaker. Coleman’s the name, and we’ve got ourselves a situation.”

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.

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