Every week a new photo is used as a prompt for Sunday Photo Fiction. If you want to have a go, take a look here, or click on the froggy to see other stories.
This is part of Dan’s Story which can be found here
Looking over his shoulder, Dan made sure Dahlia was nowhere near, as he started moving the limbs. He recognised the tattoo on one Vakarian arm and felt ill. He dropped to a crouch and closed his eyes. He remembered his time as a Private Investigator, a case stuck out to him. Animals turned up with legs missing, eyes missing, some even with heads missing. The cuts on them reminded him of the cuts on the limbs here. Whoever this was had evolved. They travelled down a road that there is only way out of, and he knew it was not going to be pretty. Before that though, he needed to show that this was not an attack and there was no “us versus them” starting again. Dan knew his old office was the only place that held all the records, and that held a lot of darkness for him.
Dan walks up the long winding road with a bottle in his upper hand. He staggers into a bin and apologises, laughing and shaking his head. Rounding the corner, he sees the woman he loves with the man he hates. He looks at Dan, and runs the knife across her throat …