Writing Prompt #2: Detective on the Scene


Certified Shitlord
This is stream of conscious meaning do not take your fingers off the keyboard to edit! Just let your mind flow and keep writing! This is not about quality it's about getting some practice and getting words and ideas out!

Prompt: Write for 10 minutes about a scene involving a detective on the scene of a crime. Write from first perspective and really see if you can become the character! Anything else is up to you! Genre such as sci-fi, fantasy, horror, whatever, it is your choice! The only solid facts are that your character is a police detective (or some law enforcement) on the scene of a crime (your choice once again!).



Gay As Fuck
The dew of the morning arose with the sun itself, yet the heartbeat of the victems body stayed still like time itself hasn't touched the fragile muscle once. Her body,covered by the sheet the arresting officers layed over the body when they found her. Her heavy mass bent the fresh cut grass where she lay,hey her extentions poked out from the sheet revealing more about herself. Her caramel skin, glistened and moist by mother nature, yet cold as the artctic winds harsh breeze. Her hand reached for something that could only point out to as more grass, some signs of struggle as her attacker strangled the helpless woman to submission.

Looking around myself I can see a small sandbox where children would play when they leftfor their break away from their learning, swing sets that would remain silent for about a week until all the evidence had been collected. My watched beeped as I looked at my arm, not even 6am yet and there is still so much work to be done.



Registered Member
Yeah, it was pretty ugly. Lots of blood. Seriously, doesn't anyone know how difficult that is to get out of the upholstery? It's disgusting, the whole load of it. If people had known how hard it was to get that rusty color and coppery smell out of sofas, they would never do anything. They'd just sit in bed and stare at the TV all day long.

I nudged at the guy's head.

"Don't do that," Joseph snapped.

"Why?" I asked.

"It messes him up."

"His brains are splattered on the floor; why are we talking about messing him up?"

"You might dislodge the bullet."

"The bullet's over there." I pointed at the little indention on the far wall. Joseph looked over the top of his glasses at it.

"How'd you notice that?"

"I use these." I pointed at my eyeballs. Joseph stepped over the man's body with a baggy in one hand and a pair of tweezers in the other. The Laz-E boy sitting below the bullet had a little bit of the blood splattered at its base. Ridiculous.

"What do you think happened?" Joseph asked as he pried the bullet out of the wall.

"Someone got shot."

"Any particulars?" He held the baggy up in the poor light. If he could've identified that with his eyes, I would have broken his glasses.

"Some lunatic came in, thinking that he'd rob the place, and didn't realize that the owner was some weird nudie pervert that liked to walk around his house in the dark."

"Please tell me he's got pants on now."

I glanced over. "Nope."

Joseph sighed loudly.

"He's a pervert, what do you expect?"

"Decency in the very least." He put the bullet away. "I wonder what he'd babbling about."

"I think he's got some multiple personality thing or whatever; he says that he didn't do it, even though it's his gun, and got his fingerprints on it."

"You don't know if they're his."

"Then we got a weird suicidal pervert that likes to commit suicide in other people's houses? Keep it simple, stupid. Mr. Naked over there can't handle the thought that he just killed someone, so he's making up some sort of bullshit story about the whole thing." Joseph started copying the fingerprints off the gun.

"This gun's the wrong size for the bullet."

"How many's in there?"

"Bullets? It's half full."

I looked at the walls. "I don't see any more bullets around."

"Which means that someone else must have come in here with a different gun, unless there's another gun imbeded in the wall that I can't see."

There wasn't. I said so.

"I still think Mr. Naked's a loony."

"The obvious answer isn't always the right one, you know." Joseph held up the little baggy and shook it. "The proof's right here."


In need of Entertainment
This one's a lil bit of a mess:

The building was still on fire when I arrived at the scene. The sirens of the emergancy cars were heard in the background making theur way towards the smoking building.
I looked up to the thirsd floor where the flames were licking the outside of ther building. A sudden loud bang unnerved me when something blew up from the intense heat in the burning apartment. I wonder what it was, and shivered.
I hope there are no casulties, I thought ot myself. What nonsense I mumbled, no casualties, yeh right.
Shaking my head I pulled the coat I was wearing tightly around me, it was a cold december night and I had come running, literally to the scene with only my pyjamas under the coat. The burning building was only a block away from my apartment.

A car pulled up near me and its siren quit instantly. I tuned to look at the driver it was my partner and I smiled at her.
"Well, what do you think?" I greeted her, I never bothered thaying hello to her anymore, I never saw the point to it.
She got out of the car and pulled on her jacket. "Jeez, it efing colds out here"
"What did you expect from a december night?" I said. "The police have a suspect in custody, they caught him running away from the buillding as the first car came along."
"The criminal returned to the crime scene/" A statement more than a question, I knew my partner. It was no good though, something wasn't right I could feel it in my bones. I've been a detective for a decade now and my gut feeling was that something felt wrong.


Epic Gamer
I sighed, squinting in the bright light of the sun. I bit on my grass stem, twiddling with it as I thought. I looked out onto the rocky landscape beyond the dusty town. I sighed again, and nudged my heels into Shea's flanks. The white mare trotted forward, her hooves clip clopping on the hard ground. I stopped her near the trough and hopped off. Tying the reins onto the wooden posts, I walked to the swing doors of the saloon. Sammie's Bar, it said. Well, now Sammie was dead. The trouble was, he was as crooked as they come, but no-one knew exactly what it was he was doing.

I stepped forward and walked through the swing doors. Frank, the rookie, was already here. He stood up. "Deputy," I greeted him. "Sherriff, look's like a real messy one today!" he gushed. Green as grass he was; his star gleamed bright silver on his waistcoat, his shooter at his side oiled and ready. He looked prim and sprung compared to me. Hell, most of the dep's did nowadays, especially to me and Mikey. We were the only two left from when I joined up. Probably the only two left in the state. We tried passing on the old ways, but the rooks didn't want to know. They wanted the badge, the gun, and the money - the job didn't mean squat to 'em. Oh, they wanted the glory all right, but they didn't want none of the obligations. I sighed again. "Times're changin'," I muttered. "Huh, Sherriff?" I shook m'head. "Nothin'. So?" I gestured towards the stiff corpse of Sammie. "What in the name of hell happened?" I asked. "Oh, it's a doozie, Sherriff!" I sighed once more. They always were. Just another day in a small town. I hitched my belt and got to work.
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