Today’s Daily Post prompt was to write a story with an open ending and invite my readers to finish it. So, I’m going to do just that. If anyone would like to finish the story, please, leave it in a comment. 🙂

“Oh my god. I can’t believe you just did that.”

“What? It’s not like I killed her or anything. She’ll be alright in a minute.”

“No she won’t, David! She’s dead! She’s clearly not breathing and blood has stopped gushing out of her head wound. You killed her!”

“She’s just faking it. She’ll be fine. See?” David bent down and rolled the prone body that was lying in a pool of blood onto its side. Two vacant eyes stared back at him. “Oh, shit.”

Five minutes ago…

“What if she doesn’t come?”

“We’ve got enough information on her to send her to jail for the next twenty years. She’ll come.” Felicity only hoped her words would be true. She heard a noise. She and David both looked towards the barn door.

Scarlett made her way over to them. “Well, hello, lady and gent. What’s with all this skullduggery then? I wouldn’t have worn heels had I known this was an actual barn. When you said ‘the barn,’ I thought it was one of those kitschy restaurant names that city folks are so fond of bestowing on buildings that are nothing like barns.”

“Hello, Scarlett. Watch the manure,” said David.

Scarlett looked down to where her foot was about to step and gave a little grimace. “Thanks. Now, what’s all this about then? Why are we meeting in an actual barn with real animal droppings 20 kilometers from civilization? This all seems so French gangster movie. Wait, do they have barns in French gangster movies? Probably not…”

Annoyed by Scarlett’s babbling, Felicity snapped, “We invited you here to discuss your part in the Harrister deal.”

“Oh, that old thing?” Scarlett waved a flaccid paw, “Please, that was ages ago.”

“Don’t be coy,” said Felicity. “We know that you took money under the table. We know that instead of giving the money to needy children or whatever, you pocketed it. We have proof.”

“What proof? Show me.” Scarlett held out her upturned hand.

“Don’t be daft. We didn’t bring it with us,” Felicity pulled out her smart phone, “but here’s a picture.” Scarlett opened her handbag and put a hand in.

“Stop right there,” David said. “You make another move, so help me, I’ll hit you with this.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m only…”

Now…

David rubbed the back of his head, “What are we going to do? I think we better call the cops.”

“Seriously, stop being an idiot. No, we’re not calling the cops. What are we going to say?” Felicity lifted her phone to an ear. “‘Hello, police? We were doing a bit of blackmail in the barn over here and it all went terribly rake-to-the-head. Can you send someone over to clean up the mess, please? That’s a dear.'” She hung up the imaginary phone call. “And what do you mean by ‘what are we going to do?’ You are the one who killed her.”

“You are just as much to blame for this as I am.”

“I am not the one who hit her!”

“Well, you are the reason she was here to be hit at all. If it weren’t for you and your cockamamie blackmail scheme, she wouldn’t have a rake wound.”

“Do not pull that shit with me, David. I did not kill her. You did.”

“Fuck you, Felicity. Fuck you. I was protecting you. She had a gun.”

“She very much did not have a gun!”

“Well, what do you call this then?” David picked up a pair of reading glasses covered in blood on the ground. “Oh… Well, I saw her reaching into her purse and I figured that she was fishing for a gun. I had no choice.”

Felicity sighed. “No choice, my ass. Once again, your figuring is all wrong. She was not threatening in any way.”

“Well, she seemed threatening to me. I was protecting you. What are we going to do with her then?”

“She’s not a sack of potatoes, David. She’s a person. Or she was a person until you clocked her on the head with a rake.”