Murder On Train Story Opener
Although the knife was not sharp enough to painlessly shear flesh, the tip was just the right size to fit under my finger nails and clean them out. It was a knife like no other. Once a week, I would clean it with alcohol swabs and oil it down with gun oil. Then the fast action spring in the Flame Blade Chopper would release with seemingly no pressure at all. I only had a few minutes to clean my nails, because my girlfriend gets totally grossed-out when I do this, and I didn’t want to fight with her. I tried to hurry.
The door of the compartment slid open. Her face was ashen. A booger was impaled on the tip of the blade. I was about to explain when she said, “Blood. Blood all over a fine Pucci scarf. Belonged to the keyboard player. I saw them drag him off.”
I’m trying Prose for the first time on this blog. It’s for one stop poetry. They asked for a fragment, specifically the beginning of a killer on a train story.