I wrote this one for a challenge. The parameters: a drabble, thriller/horror, must reference baseball.


He is dead and I killed him.  Murderer.  The big house.  Don’t drop the soap.

Adrenaline fades. I tremble. The baseball bat slips from sweaty hands and clatters on the garage floor.

It was his fault!  If he’d just done what I asked him for the first time in his fucking existence!

Dispose of the body.

Tears blur everything.  Why did he make me do it?  I loved him.  I loved him.  Why?

Storm.  I’d teased him about the name.  But so like him.  Mercurial, unpredictable.  Beautiful.

Oh God!  How can I function without my beloved, my broken BlackBerry®?