Writer’s Prompt
Frenchy Gamache never missed a day. Rain, illness, exhaustion — nothing kept him from visiting Charlie Evans at the assisted care living center at 4:00 p.m. Charlie, once a quick-witted storyteller, now drifted between worlds, his memories dissolving like fog retreating before the sun.
Most days, Charlie didn’t know his own name. But that day — that terrible day — clarity returned. His hands trembled as he gripped Frenchy’s sleeve and whispered, “He’s trying to kill me. My son… he wants me gone.”
Frenchy hesitated. Dementia was a thief of truths — replacing memories with ghosts. Was this another ghost… or the last honest message Charlie would ever speak?
Two days later, Charlie was dead.
Thirty-six hours later, he was ash.
No funeral. No goodbye. No dignity.
Frenchy stood outside the crematorium, fists clenched, heart burning with certainty: Charlie’s son hadn’t just wanted him gone — he made it so.
And Frenchy vowed, with cold resolve,
he would make him pay.
Writer’s Question
What moment in this story convinces you that Charlie’s death was murder — and how would you begin Frenchy’s revenge arc?
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