(Who) James Darnel IV (What) rifled through the dusty cubbies of a rolltop desk (When) on an oppressively damp August evening (Where) in the library of the old Smythe mansion, (Why) feverishly searching for a codicil to the will using only his left hand, sticky though it was with fresh blood and cream soda.
Brianna sat back and smiled at the screen. This would be more than a drabble; more than flash; more than a novelette. This baby was going all the way!
“Forty-nine words down… 58,951 to go.” Leaning forward, she continued typing.