Murder Drabbles

Welcome to the page of murder drabbles. On this page you will find the drabbles (100 word stories) that are part of a book project that I'm working on due for release next year, but in the meantime you can enjoy the drabbles right here!

An Accidental First

I didn’t mean to kill her, hurt her yes, but not kill her. One moment she screamed the next dead at my feet.

Shocked was the only way to describe my mental state in that instant. An accident, yet I had carried the knife, something I rarely did. It was my favourite blade as well, sharp from hours of constant attention.

If she’d kept her mouth closed then this would never have happened. Clearly her own fault rather than mine.

Yes, her fault, but now my mess to clean up. Thanks Penny, I bet that wasn’t even your real name.

Cleanliness is next to Godliness

Penny lay before me, her blood dull in the dim light. The alley was quiet, but all too close traffic moved in the better lit street. The thrill of the murder soared through my veins; with an effort I suppressed the buzz.

This wasn’t the way I’d always dreamt it. Then it was always clean, how the world should be. I felt an unexpected shiver of fear as I carried her body, surprisingly heavy, to my car.
Thankfully I always carry bin liners, just in case of a mess. With them I wrapped up Penny’s body and her bloody dress.

A Resting Place

I found a place for Penny to rest, a place hidden from the bustle of the world where she would decay in peace.

I could never visit the site again, so I took my time. I buried her deep, too deep for anyone to discover. My rage against her dissipated as I covered her with the dark soil.

I no longer blamed her, I realised that she had freed me. Now I saw the world with fresh eyes. Tenderly I smoothed the surface of her grave and left for my new world, a new life that existed exclusively for me.

Keeping the Secret

The memory of that first kill captivated me for days. I recalled the scene over and over again. At first it felt fresh, but the memory turned stale, its image no longer vibrant.

I wished that I’d kept a trophy, some trinket to freeze the moment so that it would never fade.

And then it struck me, a way to store the treasure without the risk of keeping evidence. I’d always dreamed of writing and I learned of drabbles, a story exactly one hundred words long. A memory stored in the open as a story and no-one would ever know.

Men Can't Help Acting on Impulse

I didn’t plan my second kill. How I didn’t get caught in those early days I’ll never know, my actions were clearly blessed.

I caught a beguiling scent as I walked home. I’d passed through the park, alone and enjoying the concealing darkness so late at night.

I wasn’t alone, ahead of me I heard the stuttering clack of heels, and she sounded unsteady on her feet. Her scent bewitched my sense and raised a passion within me, something precious that I only I could feel.

I discovered that there is more to passion than rage and quickened my pace.

Oops I did it Again

I need to control this impulse for murder, for the second time I have killed without forethought. Even amidst the rush a voice deep inside admonishes me that I will be caught if I am not more careful.

That sensible part is correct, but the feeling at the moment of death is beyond anything in human experience. It is rapture, kissing that last breath brings me an understanding of every truth.

A truth that the world exists only for me.

The nagging voice doesn’t silence though and now what am I to do with the body in this public place?

In Plain Sight

At least it was late at night was the only comfort I had as I tried to think of a safe way to dispose of the body. All I wanted was to return home and bask in the glory of the kill.

That was stupid thinking, I didn’t have long, in a few hours the early morning dog walkers would find her. Could I carry her home and then dispose of her at my leisure?

No, that was too risky, it was too far away. So what then?

And then it came to me, I didn’t need to hide her.

Going Green

It occurred to me that none of my details like fingerprints or DNA were on record. I became tempted to create an interesting display; she was a fine looking women, even in death. The sensible part of me condemned such foolishness, I didn’t kill her to share with others, her death belonged to me alone.

Back to square one then, but the sweet smell of compost sparked an idea. I dragged her limp body towards the scent and found a giant pile of grass cuttings. It felt warm to the touch, even hotter inside and I smiled.

It was perfect.

Knock at the Door

I felt rather pleased with myself, sure I’d given into my impulse, but I’d thought my way through it. Every morning and every evening I watched the local news, waiting for the discovery of her body. For two weeks they reported nothing and every evening I dreamed of my hands around her throat.

Pleasant visions every night but the memory faded all too quickly. The memory no longer satisfied, I wanted something new. Someone to share that last tender moment with and I already had someone special in mind.

That pleasant thought was interrupted by a knock on my door.

Keeping Cool

My heart stopped when I saw the two officers standing on my doorstep. I faltered for a moment; I almost succumbed to the urge to flee, but that calm voice deep within me counselled against making any rash decisions.

I listened to it, but my hand still trembled a little as I opened the door. They greeted me with officious politeness and asked if they could come in. In a voice that wasn’t my own I asked them why.

Nothing to worry about, just some routine enquiries, a few minutes of my time and they would be gone.

They lied.


The police were full of questions, no great surprise there I guess, it is what they do after all. I wasn’t prepared for them though.

Where was I on the night in question? That was the big one, I hedged my bets saying I wasn’t sure. I needed to know what they knew before I committed to a response. Not my smartest play, that only made them suspicious.

It might have been better to say nothing at all, but it’s too late for that now. The one in plain clothes frowns and tells me that I must come with them.

Alone in a Cell

Before I knew it I’d been processed and deposited in a cell, I’d never seen the inside of a cell before. I wasn’t impressed, but I was a little intimidated. I guess that was the point, they left me alone for over an hour.

In that time I worried about what they knew, did they know everything?

The two parts of me wrestled between having nothing to worry about to assuming that I was now condemned. Slowly though the cold part, the sensible part gained the upper hand and when the cell door finally opened I was ready for them.

Keeping the Story Straight

The two detectives questioned me all afternoon, my earlier evasiveness had caught their attention so now I had to placate them with truth.

I told them I’d been in the park, but I hadn’t seen anything and that I hadn’t said anything because I hadn’t known about the murder. I think the fat one intuited that I wasn’t saying everything, but I stuck to my story and without evidence they couldn’t hold me.

Eventually they let me go, that wouldn’t be the end, so I would have to be much more careful the next time I indulged in my delights.

A Drabble Too Far

The need to kill became physical, more than simple desire. My waking mind tormented by the sweet images of severed throats and spilling guts. The music of screams, I yearned to hear them again, but they would be watching. Fear tempered my desire and a despairing thought reminded me of these drabbles.

These confessions of the acts I’d committed. Who had read them and who would connect them? I couldn’t stop though, they were my trophies, my memories of treasured moments. I could no more give up these drabbles than I could killing, I would need to take precautions though.

Shiny New Toy

To keep the urges at bay I devoted all my energies into finding the perfect blade. A task which took longer than I expected with so much to consider. It couldn’t too small, but if it was too large then where would I conceal it?

And then there was the shape. At first I was drawn by the exotic allure of a curved blade. I imagined it drawn across slender throats. Then I pictured the straight edge of a stabbing blade and I knew my choice had been made.

When it arrives it will be time for my next dance.

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