Mama, just killed a man

[LegendInMyOwnMind]

This is from The Only Man She Can Trust. Andrew is FMC's ex-fiancé, who subjected her to a brutal SA.

The next morning at breakfast, Dad told us, "Andrew made the ten o'clock news. I didn't want to wake you to tell you last night. Seems the cops came for him at five o'clock with an arrest warrant. The dumb fuck tried to shoot it out with them. They filled him so full of holes that they could use him for a Swiss cheese. Dead on the scene, case transferred to a higher court, or more likely a lower one."

 

[NuclearFairy]

Everyone else:

It was a profound moment in an epic story that I spent ages perfecting to make it impactful.


Me over here;
... "My first death as a storyteller was when I was six and wanted to scare the shit out of my friends who liked playing in an abandoned house but I thought it was stupid and unsafe and wanted them to stop, so I made them stop." <-- said in an oddly cheerful way with uncomfortable giggles at exactly the most disturbing points.

(What the fuck is wrong with me?)

Sounds legit and like you were working on making an impactful statement. That being, "Yo, dumb-asses, stop being stupid so you can live!"

 

[Five_Inch_Heels]

For the longest time, I heard that as 'Momma just killed a man.'

I didn't kill any of mine, but a few deaths were revealed and discussed in recaps/epilogues.

 

[NotWise]

Jaime, in A Valentine's Day Mess Pt. 01. Carlos was next. They were a pair gangsters hunting the main characters in a boulder field, and they were killed by a cougar who materialized from a petroglyph to defend them.

 

[PennyThompson]

Depending on how my upcoming story is received, I might kill someone in the follow-up

 

[old_prof]

Depending on how my upcoming story is received, I might kill someone in the follow-up

I miss read that at first and thought I needed to be warning @Actingup that his life might depend on your story being well received...

 

[Katie_Mae]

Everyone else:

It was a profound moment in an epic story that I spent ages perfecting to make it impactful.


Me over here;
... "My first death as a storyteller was when I was six and wanted to scare the shit out of my friends who liked playing in an abandoned house but I thought it was stupid and unsafe and wanted them to stop, so I made them stop." <-- said in an oddly cheerful way with uncomfortable giggles at exactly the most disturbing points. Also with no pauses or breaths until that lonely little comma at the end where the tone changes to a still cheerful but vaguely threatening tone.

(What the fuck is wrong with me?)

Yours sounds delightful and meaningful. Very sensible indeed, nothing wrong there

Mine existed as an onscreen death only so I could write a big dramatic speech and was not well thought-out at all-- though I guess I did cram in as many dramatic quotes as I could manage.

 

[PennyThompson]

I miss read that at first and thought I needed to be warning @Actingup that his life might depend on your story being well received...

He knows what he did, and he better watch his Aussie Zaddy back!!

 

[Paul_Chance]

My kill count in stories on Lit is zero.

 

[anthrodisiac]

I wrote horror/post-apocalyptic/epic sci-fi. So lots, and lots, and lots of on-screen deaths. Horrifically gruesome. Truly brutal, disturbing, violent slaughter. That's not even counting the number of planets destroyed by apocalypses and random people killed in battle when their cruiser exploded.

But no on-screen deaths here...

Yet

 

[Djmac1031]

A had a female zombie kill two men within the space of a few seconds, one by oral castration, the other by ripping out his throat.

But what else would one expect from a Night Of The Living Dead porn parody?

https://www.literotica.com/s/night-of-the-giving-head

 

[Cacatua_Galerita]

I killed a main character. They weren’t happy about it. They had dodged death before and were smart enough to figure a way out of the situation.

“But it’s necessary for the story,” I told them, “I’m writing smut with substance, filth with feeling, bawdiness with some bones, perversion with a purpose, depravity with…”

“Stop! Just kill me,” they interrupted.

 

[Actingup]

He knows what he did, and he better watch his Aussie Zaddy back!!

Your next story is a home run, and my life is safe.

Great thread topic. My first deaths were in my third story, A Game of Snooker, which was really well received. It’s a LW story. Our heroine Catherine is trapped in a controlling relationship. Her husband Joe is also having an offscreen affair, encouraged by his cousin Bruno, who is trying to seduce Catherine in Joe’s absence. In a slightly campy scene, she tells Bruno off and suggests a course of action he could take to win her heart:

"I should hope not," said Catherine. "Because whatever Joe is doing right now, he is my husband, and he will remain so while he is alive, and I will not betray him, whatever he and his whore are doing and no matter what they deserve. But thank you. Thank you, Bruno, for your offer of help."

Naturally, after Bruno heads off to do the deed, she calls the police, timing it so that Bruno gets killed in a shootout just after he has disposed of Joe and the mistress, leaving Catherine free to hook up with her artist lover Matthew when the dust has settled.

I thoroughly enjoyed the deaths, but then I made Catherine feel a little bit bad for having the mistress killed, so she anonymously paid for the funeral. Not a single LW reader thought that there was anything wrong with that.

 

[joy_of_cooking]

other people can be in the document while you write, watching and commenting on the side. Two of my friends were in there as I wrote this, flirting with each other and being fairly raunchy a

This is the most horrifying thing I have ever heard.

If you were to give me the choice between either having a bunch of friends watch the garbage dribble from my fingers in real time, typos and continuity errors and mediocrity and all, or being teleported naked into times square on a warm Saturday night... I'd pick times square, no question. I'd fist bump the cowboy and pull a cardboard box from someone's dumpster to cover myself and find someone with a monthly MetroCard to swipe me into the subway. Absolutely no contest.

 

[Soixenta]

Dead Together begins with the main characters both dying. And then they go on a killing spree. The first actual killing was the hardest to write, because it is brutal and unwarranted. But I wrote the story for the Halloween contest, and I had seen so many writers say that Erotic Horror readers always look for gore.

The sequel, "Mage & Moonshadow", has more deaths, but they have been off-screen.

 

[joy_of_cooking]

First death was Vampires Don't Wait Tables, technically off screen but then recounted and visualized in graphic detail as a major plot point. It was a sweet coming of age first time story.

Surprisingly, I think I had no on-screen deaths during The Summoned Help despite it being all about a mercenary conducting a string of hits in service of a gang war. Go figure.

 

[BeechLeaf]

I killed a little boy. It was for pathos. I'd cried at a much better author's little boy death scene and thought yeah, I could pinch a bit of that.

In my mostly non-erotic main writing (not on this site) I had to kill a man to cover up an editing mistake. Two people happened to be in the same room together, she noticed him, and I then said she never found out who he was. Unfortunately later she became friends with his daughter, so I had to hustle him out of the country and give him a rare genetic disorder. That's the only time I've killed someone with a speaking part.

 

[AwkwardMD]

This is the most horrifying thing I have ever heard.

If you were to give me the choice between either having a bunch of friends watch the garbage dribble from my fingers in real time, typos and continuity errors and mediocrity and all, or being teleported naked into times square on a warm Saturday night... I'd pick times square, no question. I'd fist bump the cowboy and pull a cardboard box from someone's dumpster to cover myself and find someone with a monthly MetroCard to swipe me into the subway. Absolutely no contest.

The trick is to develop the ability to write your first draft on the fly, at very nearly finished draft quality. I had to do this out of necessity, because editing is a dangerous quagmire for me to get stuck in. I used to shuffle sentences around infinitely, "refining" them with every change.

I had to learn how to say "That looks good enough" and let things go. When I did, I realized that the way I wrote it the first time was good enough too! I still edit, finding weasel words that I can remove, but my editing phase is pretty lean. I front load the work so the back end is easy.

 

[BobbyBrandt]

There have been too many to count, but they all deserved it.

I do know that the more creative that I get in writing the reason for, and the method of a character's demise, the better the reception from readers.

So far, I have:

* Asphyxiated 26 gang members by sealing them into a cinder block building, piping truck exhaust in until they were all unconscious, and then burning the building down on top of them.

* Making a drowning look like an accident when the victim misjudged the distance of his jump

* Making an assassination by rifle appear to be a hunting accident

* Getting the victim knock-out drunk and then tossing him into a rock crushing machine

* Hanging the victim by his ankles from a bridge, directly in the path of an oncoming train

* Cremating a victim while alive

* Causing a drug overdose by applying a fentanyl laced bandaid onto an open wound of the victim

* Poisoning with mushrooms

There are also many character deaths that are the motivation for revenge, so I won't count those either.

I still think that the prologue scene in "Searching" was one of my favorite "kills".

 

[EdwardsOtherSide]

Confession, The Third

The story is Erotic Horror; the casualties were evil cultists and a Lovecraftian horror from beyond Euclidean space and time, and the killer* was the MMC rescuing the FMC to save her from being r*ped by the tentacled horror.

*I started to say shooter, but he used a tomahawk as well. Pretty spry for a 300+ year old man.

 

[Rob_Royale]

My first were a group of bandits in the final act of A Ruckus in River's Bend. Our heroes set out to rescue a local woman and things get sticky. I've also done an erotic horror story called A Fortunate Man where a pair of modern witches 'consume' five ne'er-do-wells.

 

[yowser]

Only one. A Hindu mythological demon from the Nilgiri Hills breaks and bites the neck of a clueless and well armed bloke from Leeds. Seems to be about enough killing for me, nothing since. Some violence in the Mickey Spillane business, but no death.

 

[StillStunned]

This is probably the first one I wrote, although the story has never been published. A scantily-clad beauty crosses the battlefield towards the last survivors of an invading army:

Halting a dozen paces from the pair, the woman looked at them in turn, then glanced at the bodies lying around. “You have fought hard,” she said in a voice that was soft and sultry despite her matter-of-fact statement. “Even in invaders of my Eternal Father’s country, I can admire that.”

The tall soldier made as if to reply, but she cut him off with a sharp gesture. “No, you do not talk now. You listen. I am Seventh Daughter, and I am giving you a choice. One of you will die, the other will share my bed tonight.”

The taller man pointed his gleaming weapon at her. “You cannot tempt us, slut!” he proclaimed in a ringing voice, raising the standard. “Do you see this banner? We are soldiers of the Nameless Company! We do not– aargh!” His words ended in a choking gasp as his companion turned and stabbed with his sword. The blade sank into the man’s throat, and he collapsed onto the stony ground, staring up in shock as sword and standard slipped from his hands.

The remaining soldier swung round at the sound of delicate hands clapping. The woman who had named herself Seventh Daughter was looking at him with a mixture of admiration and amusement. “You seem more practical than your friend.”

It took my wife by surprise.

 

[TarnishedPenny]

I've killed a couple, here and there, in both dramatic subtle fashions.

My female PI, Taffy McFitch, describes one incident in The Academy Affair.

I lifted one foot, drove it down on the Derrick’s instep. I didn’t have the freedom of movement to make it a telling blow, but the surprise and pain got me enough wiggle room that I could get my hand around the PPK in its holster in back of the purse.

The first round went through Derrick’s knee and down into his foot. He screamed and, in his surprise, Max shoved me against the wall. My second shot took him between the eyes. I aimed the third shot for Derrick’s other knee, but he suddenly bent forward as the gun went off and the bullet went in the top of his head.

I can’t say I was overly sorry.

Then there were less obvious cleansings of the collective gene puddle, done by an ethical mind-controlling protagonist who just happened to have been elected mayor of a small town in On My Way Up:

[Another case] was just bleak, the owner of a car dealership in the next county who had a triple-locked and soundproofed corner room in the dealership basement and a not-quite-foolproof way of disposing of body parts. Him I just stumbled over while idly {reading} people at the town fair. A few days later, I had to {ease} his maintenance manager's mind to help him sleep without nightmares. After all, it's distressing when you arrive to open up shop early one morning and find your boss has hanged himself in his office, leaving a six-page, hand-written confession on the desk. I wasn't overly proud of that one, but three families got some closure when the remains were located - and the air we all breathed got a little cleaner.

and

And the overall crime rate and drug problems - surprise! surprise! - also dropped. A periodic inspection of the local jail gave me an opportunity to {change} some dysfunctional attitudes and the chapter president of the local biker gang even thought it was his own idea to relocate. Both the ultraleft and the ultraright political pinheads seemed to stay away or, at the very least, settled down on arrival. A couple of pushers made the news by OD'ing on their own wares - what goes 'round, comes 'round, I guess...

Ruthless, you say? Maybe. It was never something I did casually or took lightly. And remember, I had kids growing up there. I'm not sure about 'ruthless', but I'd certainly settle for 'pragmatic'.

 

[ShelbyDawn57]

From On Becoming Eve. It's a bit graphic, but Hank deserved it...
Our heroine has been bestowed with the blessings of "...Bast, Bes, Tezcatlipoca, the protector, the transformer..."(pick one) and is becoming aware of what that means - in case you're curious.

---

Without thinking, I did a flip over Hank’s head and, grabbing his shoulders, dug my claws in deep. Hank cried out in surprise and pain as I twisted in the air and landed behind him. The muscles in my arms and shoulders burned as I shoved the claws of my left hand into his back, twisted my hand and snapped his spine; reaching around his neck; I ripped his throat open with the claws on my right. He collapsed in a heap at my feet.

Delicately licking Hank’s blood from my fingers and my claws as they retracted, I wiped the remaining blood from my hands with his coat. When they were clean, I picked up my clothes from where they lay as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Folding them neatly, I set them next to my purse, opting not to get dressed lest any splash on my body from Hank might stain them. No one, including Victor, said a word. The big cat roared in my head as I stepped into my heels, “Well done. Now you begin to understand what you are,” I smiled to myself; I had wanted to do that since that first night Hank stuck his gun in my face.