Charlotte Bingham, 32, was lying face down on the bed in the master bedroom with a pair of stockings around her neck. It looked like she had been dead at least 24 hours. There was no sign of forced entry and it was too early to tell if the neighbours had heard or seen anything suspicious.
On the kitchen table police detective Timmins found a small sculpture carefully carved in an abcott. Was this the handiwork of a mad sculptor waiting for Charlotte to return home? There can’t be that many abcott carvers around, she thought as she left the scene and headed to the local art gallery.
For 100 consecutive days I will write and post a short story (about 100 words) incorporating a randomly selected word from Afterliff: A new dictionary of things there should be words for.
The tiny remnant of a bar of soap.
The special beam in a country cottage you always hit your head on.