The town square was placid. Bread was bought, coffee drunk, chess played.
I was never placid. Orderly routine filled me with divine rage. As a child, crossing the square, I would imagine a detonator in my pocket. Click, and Mme Albert vanished; click, and M Leroy became a puff of smoke. As I grew older, I dreamed of knives and bombs.
You probably think I’m a psychopath and came to a sticky end. Think again. I made my fortune and bought this town. Deploying the citizens on the board is much more fun than killing them.
Fancy sharpening your skill with writing exercises? The Scrivener’s Forge offers a new exercise every month to hone one aspect of your craft. Take a look at this month’s exercise on character and world-building