Mortality II

While I may feel deeply for the loss of any of the animals I work with, I kill off at least 12 people a year, using picturesque means. I have mourned for only one. I blithely stuck enough nicotine patches on a woman to kill her. I shot or stabbed my share. I often push them off high places, perhaps a reflection of my fear of heights. Some poison, some bashing with blunt objects. Mr. B. and the printer’s wife were both strangled. Sometimes I don’t even know how they died. Miss W. washed ashore and was either bashed or tossed into the freezing river.
Since I write short stories, I don’t have to kill people every time out. I have my share of kidnappings, robberies, stalking, stolen identities, and family violence.
I have several stories about the murder of horses. Around the time horses were being electrocuted for insurance money, I did in several. My writers’ group said “no dead horses.” One member refused to read a story with a dead animal in it. I started another a couple of weeks ago, but I am having second thoughts.
I will go back to killing off people, since readers seem to be less bothered by that.
KB