Writing Prompt #132 — Ignorant Transactions

Prompt: As a Necromancer, you figured you’d end up in jail someday. What are you didn’t expect was that it would be because of someone else’s misdeeds. You ‘were’ purchasing corpses from a very ‘reliable’ source, until it was revealed that they were a serial killer. Now your taking the fall.

I didn’t imagine I’d end up in jail… Well, I did, in the back of my mind. Who wouldn’t? Dealing with corpses, resurrecting the dead, and releasing them back into the wild like rescued wildlife. But money’s money, and necromancy doesn’t pay as much as it use to.

I tried to tell them I didn’t know the bodies I was procuring were the same murder victims of a serial killer. I mean… I had an idea that it could’ve been the case. Who provides that many bodies, day after day? But, I mean, even if I did know — which I didn’t — does it matter, really? He gets his fix, I get paid and they’re brought back. Their memories whipped from the day they died. No harm, no foul, no?

You see… It’s like when you’re in Vegas — ever been? No? Okay, well… — it’s like… You know what? It doesn’t matter. It’s just being lost in the moment. In the thick of it. You get tunnel vision, and you’re working by instinct alone. Corpse comes in, cash goes in hand, say some words, draw some symbols, speak to the Ancients, yada yada yada, and living person leaves out the back door. Big, bang, done. No questions, no discussions; nothing but work.

But during those times, accidents are more likely. Shit happens, you know? Draw a symbol wrong. Say the wrong words. Ask the wrong questions. You know, shit, right? Well, I must’ve screwed the pooch a lot more than I thought. One or two mess ups and no one’s the wiser. No one believes someone saying they were brought back from the dead, right? No one questions who they believe to be crazy saying they were murdered by a serial killer when they’re alive and breathing right in front of them.

God I wish I had a smoke. Anyway. When there’s not just one or two but a dozen, people pay attention, ask questions, talk to the police. See where I’m going with this? And before I know it it’s not my buddy at the door, but the boys in blue. One thing leads to another and I’m here, sitting next to you and the toilet that doesn’t flush.

So, buddy, now you know my story — what’s yours?

Read my previous prompt, “Hell’s Queue

Read more of my writing prompts here.

Check out my bibliography for more of my work.

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