The abduction Of The Human Known As Todd Marcum Part 1 - A serial by @BourbonSex

Chapter One:

Everyone Talks About Being Probed, But Nobody Does Anything About It.

(3,000 words +/- 100 words - mentions of nudity)

  Todd Marcum regretted his decision to socialize as soon as he walked into Mark’s apartment. Why in the name of all that is good and holy would anyone want to subject themselves to this? Somewhere between nineteen and two-hundred people were crammed into a small apartment. The thermostat was set to "broil" and shitty music was blaring out of the tiny, Walmart brand speakers making it an exercise in futility to talk to anyone. The only food available were several bowls of off-brand chips and pretzels... And those were somewhere in the Hellish labyrinth that is Mark’s tiny-ass kitchen, surrounded by throngs of drunk people. Todd had been here for an hour now and it was fast approaching “time to cut your losses” for him.

  To make things even better - it was a costume party. A costume party where only half of the people there were in costume. And only half of THEM were in legit costumes. The rest were all dressed as “Oh, I’m a serial killer” coming to the party in what they wore to work that day. And Todd’s least favorite part of the costumed people were the group of women in the “sexy” costumes. There were an assortment of things wondering around the place with boobs and skin to spare... he saw, or thought he saw, sexy Chewbacca, a sexy Ketchup bottle, and a sexy Swedish Chef… from the muppets. None of these things should ever be sexy in Todd’s opinion. Chewbacca maybe... but that stemmed from a really troubling brush with fanfiction in the early 90s.

  Todd, on the other hand, was in a full-on set of custom Mandalorian armor that he’d worked on for two years. It was perfect and he was very pleased with himself about it. Or, he had been for the first thirty minutes. Now, in his perfect armor, he sat alone on the couch, sweating his balls off for no reason that he could fathom. He looked at the gin and tonic in his hand, debated if a trip through the hall of “sexy halloween costumes” was worth the refill, and decided to sit exactly where he was, finish this fucking drink, and go home. At least home was quiet. Home was a normal and acceptable temperature. Home was… 

Her father's daughter - short story

It was the wind that bothered her most. It cut through the fabric of her clothing and clawed at her skin beneath. It made her feel the cold all the way to her bones. And she fucking hated being cold.

She wasn't sure why she was out here. Some misplaced sense of moral responsibility? Some life-debt to a man who kept betraying her trust again and again and again... She just couldn't fathom why she stood here, shoulder to shoulder with the three people she'd swore never to see again.

When the coroner moved the sheet and displayed the face, none of that mattered.

Paul's lifeless body looked up, cold, white, and lifeless from the edge of the field. He'd been stripped of every stitch of clothing. Bruises and scrapes marred his body from the neck down. She shook her head slowly from side to side as she looked at him. No, not him... his body. His empty shell of a body. Devoid of a soul now in death as his soul had been devoid of emotion in life. An empty shell that once housed an empty soul.

"Yeah." She finally said. "That's Paul Becker."
"You're sure."
"I'm fucking sure." She said. "Can I go now?"
"Sure." The cop said. "Just leave your info with officer Smith in case we need to reach you."
"Whatever, man."

Kelly turned and walked away. Debbie and Mark turned and walked with her towards their waiting cars. She did not speak as she walked. She thrust her hands deeper into her pockets and willed herself to be warm.