A Broken (Deadly) Resolution

Only two weeks into the New Year had passed and Tim had already broken his first resolution: Don’t kill anyone. Write this scene.

Post your response (500 words or less) in the comments below.

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6 thoughts on “A Broken (Deadly) Resolution

  1. kathleenmagner

    Susan set down her mug, lipstick marking the chipped rim above the Bears’ logo, and crossed her legs. The slide of her skirt rustled against her nylons, and with a shift in his battered armchair, Tyler tried to go deaf.

    “I’ve thought a lot about what you said on New Year’s Eve, Ty.”

    She folded her hands, manicured fingers intertwined and balanced on her bared knee. When she raised her gaze, Tyler couldn’t help but meet her eyes. Their crystalline blue stared at him as intently as they had from a framed cushion of pillows two weeks earlier.

    Her husband’s pillows.

    The memory made Tyler shift again, the mug he cupped suddenly fiery. He placed his drink on the squared coffee table between them and worked up a wry smile. “I was babbling for most of it.”

    Susan’s jaw firmed, making her high cheek bones stand out and her tumble of auburn hair bounce on the shoulders of her silken cardigan. The body underneath the snug buttoning, tanned and lithe, leapt into Tyler’s mind. He gripped his chair’s armrests, his grin strained.

    “You know I’ve never been good with conversation.”

    “No, I know you’re right. This is no way to live. If you’re getting out, I…” Susan lifted her chin and a gleam sparked in her eyes like someone had struck flint in her brain. “I want to go with you.”

    Tyler rubbed his thumb against the leather and stared across his small studio at the woman who he’d dared to touch, who now wanted to run with him. The latter seemed the far more dangerous prospect.

    “Your husband—”

    “Can find another trophy wife.” Susan retrieved her mug and her bangs hid her features when she stared into her reflection.

    “I’m sure he can but I imagine he’d be kind of pissed about being left in the lurch.”

    Sighing, Susan escaped her own visage in one of the pair of windows. Snow piled upon the sill and flakes fell, obscuring the limited view he had of Lake Michigan. Her fingers whitened around the mug and her voice dropped low. “Martin’s always so mad.”

    The radiator clanked as if to dispel her whisper and the sudden hint of winter creeping through the walls. Tyler forced himself deeper into his seat’s thin cushions lest he leap over the table and gather her up, warming them both and protecting her from the truth.

    Martin York, he reasoned, was a mad man in more ways than one. Regardless, Tyler knew all too well who made the mob king’s troubles vanish.

    Not any more.

    The vow circled through his mind for the countless time since his January resolution. Tyler held fast to the chair as he did to his decision.

    “If you want out, Susan, I think the best route for you is the police.”

    “It’s not what you’re doing.”

    … Click here to read the rest and feel free to leave a comment.

  2. Nellie

    “Only two weeks into the New Year had passed and Tim had already broken his first resolution: Don’t kill anyone. Write this scene.”

    I’ve been cursed with this problem my whole life. It’s not a normal problem that lots of people have like say, gluttony or laziness. I tend to accidentally kill people. It just happens in the moments I expect it least. Like just last week, I was mowing my lawn and I ran over a rock just as my neighbor opened her window and leaned out to water her flowers. It hit her in the head, and she died shortly after. Then another instance; I had sprinkled salt on my roof, and just as the mail lady walked by my house and an icicle fell on her and severed her spinal chord. I don’t get it, and the guilt is killing me.
    Last new years I made a resolution, “don’t kill anyone”. Naturally, it didn’t go so well. Just two weeks into the new years and there I was, killing someone.
    It was a beautiful Sunday morning and I was going for a walk around town when a woman came running past me. I looked at her as she ran away and wondered why she would be running so fast. I heard her scream. “Help! Help me!” she was shouting. I turned and glanced behind me. A man was running after her with a gun in his hand. I jumped at him when he went past and he fell. The gun went off, it hit the woman in the ankle. She screamed again. I closed my eyes, I knew what was about to happen. What I didn’t know was how. Quite suddenly a car came zooming out of nowhere. It swerved around me and the armed man and because of this it went screeching toward the woman. Her ankle was broken and she couldn’t walk. The collision was fatal, and the gunman got away. So, not only did I kill yet another person, but I also saved a murderer’s life. Shoot.

  3. Methoosis

    Tim cringed. “Call me Tim! We’re in public! Remember, you’re Carl, and I’m Tim”. He straightened his shirt collar. Again, Carl thought those hardly conforting words: ‘He CAN’T be insane. He’s a good friend. He isn’t really going to…’
    his thought faded away. Maybe he WAS crazy. Hadn’t he told him there was a gun in his front pocket? Maybe he was lying.

    “But Carl’s my real name, Tim!”

    He grinned. “That’s Tim SIR, to you.”

    Carl stared at his ink-black hair. His pinched face. His horribly pointed ears, thinking ‘You do NOT look like a “Tim”.’ He finally spoke. “Oh, right. Of course…Tim SIR.”
    The words on his lips didn’t seem right. None of this did. But Tim was a particular kind of guy. If things didn’t go his way, then they certainly didn’t go Carl’s way, either.

    For reasons that will soon reveal themselves, I will not call Tim by his given name, not even in a short story.

    Carl took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice even. “So now what? The evidence? The witnesses? How will you… I, ah, mean we avoid it?”

    Tim waved his hand. It was a firm gesture, and meant to silence Carl’s questioning. Carl got the message. “Come on, we gotta get there fast,” Tim hissed after he’d caught his breath. “This way! That dark alley there!”

    Carl bit his lip, following the mad man into an alley, swarming with unnervingly indifferent cats. They simply sat there, staring at the two wearily. Finally, he risked one more question. “What about your resolution?”

    Tim froze. With clenched teeth, he responded. “That doesn’t matter anymore.”

    Carl nodded briefly, continuing to sprint down the alley, desperately trying to keep up with Tim’s agility.

    Around the corner, he spotted his prey instantly.
    “He’s here. Wait for him to go in, then I’ll follow you. You know his house better than me.”

    Carl swallowed. “Yessir, Tim.”

    And with that, he unexpectedly disappeared around the corner.

    “Carl!! Is he in the house yet? Cause’ if he isn’t, so help me…”

    “He is!” Carl replied quickly, avoiding a smack on the ear. Tim knew where he lived, too, so best to do exactly as he directed.

    Carl knocked on the door, earning a man I will identify as Mr. Fink’s attention. “Yes?”

    His mustache bristled with annoyance. “Are you here to talk about your friend’s confinement in the Mental Hospital? I assure you, I cannot be persuaded.”

    Carl hesitated. First, he had to free him. Now, he had to help with the stupid revenge. Did he really want to help that loathsome man? Mr.Fink started to close the door.

    Tim poked his back.

    Of course he did.

    “Wait! May I come in, Mr. Fink? It’s most certainly not about HIM. I simply wanted to use your phone–”

    “What’s wrong with a pay phone?”

    Carl wanted to smack himself. Then he came up with a legitimate excuse. “No money.”

    Mr.Fink let him in, if not with a little reluctance. “You can use the one in the kitchen, just don’t get into the fridge.”

    Carl nodded stiffly. He couldn’t see Tim, but he knew that he was right behind him. Mr.Fink closed the door, and noticed Tim immediately. “CARL!! Did you break…this… thing… out of…!?!”

    Carl stared at Tim accusingly. “You said you were going to sneak around from behind!”

    Mr. Fink regarded this sentence, appalled. “You. Both of you!! You’re BOTH insane!!”

    He merely smiled a blissfully insane smile. “You don’t want to be part of it? Shame. You two are the only evidence!”

    Carl was speechless, staring at the cold, metal pistol aimed at his heart. How had Tim drawn it so quickly? “But what about you? Your fingerprints will give you away!”

    Tim laughed. “That doesn’t matter! Nothing does!!”

    His voice and manner were disturbingly similar to a delighted child. “Night-Night, everyone!”

    Three gunshots echoed through the house.

    It was the 2nd week of January, and already Tim had broken his new year’s resolution: Don’t kill anyone.

    But it wasn’t just that. He had killed three entire people, including himself.

  4. BSantiago

    The room was stuffy with steam from a hot shower and the lingering heaviness of a recently smoked cigarette. The line of blood stained clothing lead from the door to the tub where the curtain was only partially pulled closed. It exposed a hairy leg lined with streaks of red that slowly moved about in a poor attempt at getting clean. Tim seemed to actually be reveling in this process.

    He ran his bloody hands through his hair and let the water just pour down his face. A menacing grin was plastered on his face as he thought about all the souvenirs he had gathered. He was pleased with his work. Therapists were so wrong. He wasn’t depressed and the voices were starting to make perfect sense. There was no need for the medication in his reasoning so he stopped taking it.

    It was only two weeks into the New Year and Tim had already broken his first resolution: Don’t kill anyone. Most people make resolutions for self improvement that are easily broken but the one Tim made in his session with his therapist would have benefited the family that lay in various rooms of the house he invaded and was now showering in.

  5. Grover Cleveland

    “Avery the idiot? Why did you send him?” asked Hoskins.

    Moose stared straight ahead. Rocco shrugged. He might as well have asked his dining room table. He picked up the phone.

    “Why did they send Avery?” Kera wanted to know. “That guy’s not very bright and has terrible reflexes.” Growing up, he had been terrible at Duck Hunt.

    “No one here seems to know.” Kera was taking the news of Tim’s resurrection pretty well, considering that Tim had run down her only brother with a cement truck and then stupidly tried to pin the whole incident on the KGB. It had sounded ludicrous, even at the time.

    “Go get him,” said Hoskins.

    Kera had been a journeyman-rank assassin for only a short time, but already she was acquiring a reputation for carrying out hits with panache and gusto. But not subtleness.

    “A bazooka?”
    “It got the job done.”
    “Tone it down, or we’ll have to make a note on your next evaluation. And you know what that means.” Kera knew. The water cooler gossip would be too much to live down.

    Tim was easy enough to track, since he hadn’t ditched his enormous silver and red Humvee. Rookie mistake. Kira observed that while Tim’s Motel 6 accommodation offered reasonable comfort at an affordable price, it didn’t offer much in the way of security. In fact, the chipper receptionist had all too eagerly told Kera what room Tim was in, even after she outrageously lied by saying she was his dentist.

    “You make housecalls?”
    “He has excellent insurance.”
    “Why are you dressed like somebody from the Matrix?”
    She’d already walked out.

    Tim had tried to throw her off by parking his SUV right in front of his room, but Kera wasn’t fooled. Employing a trade secret that the company had taught her, she took the gum from her mouth and stuck it over the peephole, knocked, and raised her crossbow.


    Got him, right between the eyes. Another trade secret: Never let them start in on some speech. She dragged him inside, wiped off the arrow, and closed the door behind her when she left, pausing only to watch the end of a Price is Right pricing game. Things weren’t the same without Bob Barker. In spite of the obvious decline in the quality of contemporary daytime television, Kera was flying high. “That’s how you’re gonna beat ’em, Kera,” she thought. “They keep underestimating you.”

    Most people wouldn’t have seen the car bomb coming, and Kera was no exception. The motel clerk would later lament that the massive fireball wrecked a nearly brand new Hummer that was so close to the explosion. “Such a nice vehicle,” he’d say.

    “Such nice vehicle,” said Natasha, watching the fireball. “Hummer HHR displays quality engineering.”
    “It is too bad about vehicle,” said Boris, “But we had to erase all traces of KGB involvement in incident. This fellow could not keep his mouth closed about cement truck.”
    “Such nice vehicle,” said Natasha, driving away.

  6. KryingRain

    Only two weeks into the New Year had passed and Tim had already broken his first resolution: Don’t kill anyone. Tim Knight looked down at the body that lay at his feet. The blonde lay face down in a pool of his own blood, a gun laying just out of his reach. Tim stepped back and put his own gun back into its holster, pulling his vest back in place to cover it up. Shaking his head, he turned and walked out of the large hotel into the bright sunlight. Hurrying to his silver and red Hummer HHR, he jumped in the driver’s side and started the engine, pulling away as if nothing happened.
    Going back to his apartment, Tim calmly cleaned his gun and wiped it down. It wouldn’t take long before the blonde was found by one of the housekeepers. He couldn’t believe things had worked out this way. After taking every precaution to leave his old life behind and start over, the blonde man had managed to find him. Tim had changed his name and moved to another state, picking the biggest city to get lost in. He never thought his former friend and partner would find him so easily.
    “What do you want, Avery?” Tim asked, once he reached his former friend‘s hotel room.
    “I have a job for you,” the blonde told him. Tim turned around and went back towards the door.
    “I don’t do that anymore,” he stated. A soft click from behind him made him freeze in his tracks. Turning around he saw a gun pointing at him.
    “Would you rather Kera find out you’re still alive?” Avery asked flatly. “The man who murdered her only brother?”
    “She doesn’t need to know,” Tim growled before reaching back to open the door.
    “Do the job or die,” Avery stated. “Your choice, my friend.” Tim’s eyes went wide at that.
    “I refuse,” he said. “Find someone else.”
    “Then die,” the blonde deadpanned. Before he could pull the trigger, Tim yanked his own gun out and shot him, a silencer already in place. Avery’s face held a shocked look before he fell to his knees on the plush carpeting. A moment more and he was face down, blood pouring from the wound in his head.
    Shaking his head at the memory, Tim stood up and placed his gun in its holster. Picking up his bag, he threw what little belongings he kept into it before zipping it up and slinging it over his shoulder. Taking a last look around, he went out the door back to his SUV, tossing the bag into the back. Climbing into the driver’s seat he blew out a breath and sighed.
    “Looks like it’s time to start over again.” he muttered before driving away, leaving yet another life behind him.


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