Wednesday, March 14, 2018

A Brutal Attack

With the improvements to the cabin completed Sheila grew antsy for a new conquest, which meant a new relationship. She decided to write a book about her exploits, and since all writers wrote their most successful novels at the local coffee shop, Sheila came up with a plan. She took the ferry to Seattle every morning, and at the Starbucks in Pioneer Square she opened her laptop, sipped her coffee, and began detailing her life. But she hadn’t forgotten her true mission, she kept her eyes open for her next romantic conquest.

Even she was shocked when that person was a sweet young girl named Jerry. Their connection was instantaneous, the rapport amusing, sincere, and thoughtful. The sex unbelievable. Jerry gave Sheila something she didn’t expect, a hint at what empathy meant. It was her downfall and her greatest asset. It was also Jerry's undoing.

Jerry loved everyone, and the causes she worked tirelessly for innumerable. So much so that they began to interfere in the relationship. Something Sheila could not tolerate. The attention from her lover had to be full, intense, and unrelenting or she grew bored. Three months into this relationship, Sheila became bored. It was time to plan the next phase.

Hiking was the one recreational activity that Sheila and Jerry loved doing together. They began planning longer and deeper excursions into Moran State Park. It was a hike to the summit of Mount Constitution that become an adventure that Sheila would never forget.

The hiked, then made camp. Alone in the forest, they found a lake where they could skinny dip, make love on a blanket in the open air, and even plan for a future, A future that sadly would never be.

At midnight, Sheila left the tent, she packed her sleeping bag and secured her backpack., then she undressed. Her companion, Jerry, was sound asleep, thanks to a sedative that Sheila had slipped into her last glass of champagne. From outside the tent, Sheila took a curved hunting knife and slashed the canvas open. Mimicking, she hoped the sharp claws of a bear. She tore into the sleeping girl she once claimed to love. The slices were deep, brutal, meant to kill. They would.

Sheila struggled to awaken from the nightmare attack. She found clarity for one full moment. At that moment she recognized her attacker. Her last words, “why my love?” fell on deaf ears as Sheila struck the final blow.

When Jerry was finally well and dead, Sheila went back to the lake for one last swim to remove the blood from her naked body. Re-dressing, she gathered her belongings, made sure all evidence of her presence was obliterated, then she calmly walked back to civilization.

She relied on Jerry’s silence about their relationship as cover. The fact that she never gave her real name or any actual facts about herself also gave her no cause to believe that she be found out.

Jerry was known for her solo hikes. It was how she carried out most of her amorous relationships. Her father, a prominent politician in Seattle, would not have understood his daughter’s choices, and Jerry was sure she could keep the world fooled. At least long to inherit a promised fortune by marrying the man who would make her legit in her family’s eyes. After that, she planned to come out to the entire world.

Now, there would be no need. Sheila saw to that.

Jerry’s body wasn’t found for several months and by that time the animals had gotten to her. Her bones were scattered. A bear attack was cited as the cause of death. Sheila smiled when she read the article.


Want to know more about Sheila
Follow the links for her story:

Remember folks - this is all fiction -
an exercise of the imagination!

Wednesday, February 28, 2018

Sheila Kills Again

Sheila had gone into hiding. The police knew she killed Bill. Several folks had seen the platinum blonde in a cherry red Porsche around Jekyll Island at the time of his death. But since his body wasn’t found for two days, Sheila was long gone.

On her way across the country, she stopped in Las Vegas, colored her hair black, and took on a Goth look. With a ring through her nose and several fake tattoos, she entered a Texas Hold-em game in the back room of her hotel. She cashed in the Porsche and won a cabin in Washington State.

The cabin was on San Juan Island, where Sheila forgot her desire for vengeance and became a most sadistic serial killer.


At first, the cabin on San Juan was fun. She enjoyed the sunny days, the beautiful sunsets, the isolation. But after a storm flooded her new home, clean up was a slog in the mud for days on end. Sheila grew tired of the solitary life. She wanted, needed a man.

Conner Seal became that man. He’d come out from Seattle to help her repair the damage. His firm pecks, six-pack abs, and deep blue eyes warmed her in regions she didn’t even know were cold.

An affair started, but when Conner wanted to end it because he had other jobs too do, and other women to bed. Sheila couldn’t, wouldn’t let go. She pretended to because she wasn’t about to bring the cops to her piece of heaven on earth.

Sheila waited, watched, and then she proceeded with caution.

Conner had found a new remodeling job in Olympia, Washington, and a new girl. It was because of his insistence on leaving and his easy betrayal that he died a most tragic death.

Conner and his new girl, Alice, planned a night in. Sheila added a sedative to their wine then she waited until they were both soundly asleep.

Alice woke the next morning to find a bloody butcher knife, but no Conner, and no memory of the night before. No one caught on until Conner's shallow grave was discovered in the woods behind Alice’s house.

The police called it a crime of passion. Conner Seal’s new girlfriend, Alice Winter, was charged with murder. Accused of stabbing him thirty times on the floor of her kitchen, burying his body, and cleaning up the crime scene. Alice had no defense.

Sheila enjoyed reading about the case, but it was the pictures of his bloody body that appeased her thirst for murder, at least for a little while.


Want to know more about Sheila
Follow the links for her story:

 Killer Spice
 Foxglove Tea
 Bloody Tissue
 A Murderous Intent
 In Flagrante Delicto
Getting Away With Murder
Sheila Murders, In Hawaii
A Deadly Retribution
Sheila Falls
One Night Stand
Obstacles Must Be Removed
Murder = Death
A Very Cold Dish
Pea Soup

 Remember folks - this is all fiction -
an  exercise of the imagination!

Thursday, February 1, 2018

Sheila Will Return

Statistically it’s been proven that women commit only about 11 percent of all murders. Also, that while women do use guns, poison is still a favorite weapon of the female.

Women kill significant others, acquaintances, even children but very few strangers.

My serial killer, Sheila doesn’t discriminate. She’ll kill anyone, and she loves all types of weapons. But for some reason I've hit a road block when it comes to Sheila's murderous adventure. So maybe I need to 'just do it' - 'just write'!


“The scariest moment is always just before you start.”

~ Stephen King ~

Stay tuned. Sheila will return!

Here are some links about murder that you might find helpful in your own writing.

FBI Crime Stats

Murder and Gender

Wednesday, January 4, 2017


The fog was thicker than pea soup and murkier than mud. Still, it worked out to be the best cover possible. Especially as murder was the goal.
Sheila had changed her looks. Now a platinum blond, the color did little to help her hide. She was even more of a standout than before. She didn’t care. She flaunted her freedom!

But tonight, she was covered from head to toe in black. No platinum and barely the whites of her eyes were visible.
Sheila had a goal. She was going to get her revenge on the man that brought all her dreams to a standstill. Bill, the man who set her up and ruined her marriage plans with Hank.
Sheila hadn’t forgotten that Hank was part of the setup, but his comeuppance would happen last after she took out all those who’d betrayed her.
Bill made number one on her list simply because his was the first name she’d pulled out of the hat.
She’d observed him for several weeks. He loved regularity, and with his dog Duke, he walked the beach daily. No longer a Navy man, he lived on the money his mother had left him when she died just days after he got back from Afghanistan.
He’d bought a small house on Jekyll Island, Georgia, and was enjoying the quiet life. He was working on a book. Sheila didn’t know that, or the fact that she was the subject.

Sheila watched, waited, and when Duke, his black lab, took off running down the beach. Sheila had Bill in her sights and fired. Her new M24 Sniper’s Rifle and extensive training made the shot count. Bill fell, and Duke ran to his side.
Sheila was already on her way home.
“One down, dozens to go.” Shelia laughed as she drove off in her new Porsche.

Yolanda Renée © 2017

Sheila's Murderous Journey
just click the links!

Remember folks - this is all fiction -
an  exercise of the imagination!

Tuesday, December 27, 2016




            Joe handed Sheila the day's mail. His fingers softly caressing her hand but if she noticed, she didn't let on. He'd been interested for sometime in the beautiful silent woman, but she never gave him the time of day. Her eyes never met his. His heart broke for her, even though he knew all of her crimes, the more he saw of her, the more convinced he became that she was innocent. She'd been set up by that nasty soldier that had brought her to justice, he was certain of it.

            Joe Trenton had been a prison guard for over fifteen years; he was married and had three children. This was the first time he'd ever been attracted to one of his charges. At first, he fought his burgeoning feelings of affection. He never voiced them, but a touch, a small gift of chocolate, and a book of poetry conveyed what he couldn't. He never signed his gifts, and if she knew they were from him, she didn't let on. Still, his unspoken affection grew.

            Sheila kept her silence. She never spoke a word to anyone, not the other prisoners, or the guards, and no one bothered her either. Her mother made sure that Sheila had protection. She'd bought and paid inmates and guards to keep the riff raff away from her daughter. Darla believed in Sheila's innocence, and did everything in her power to assure her safety on the inside and pursued all legal venues possible on the outside.

Letters from fans continued to arrive daily, and as Sheila read them, even she began to believe in her innocence. Revenge became her goal, escape her desire, and silence her tool. Joe had made an impression, but Sheila didn't respond to his flirtations and surprisingly he seemed to like it that way.

She didn't speak, but she did write, but only to one fan. Her letters went out daily. She never asked for a thing, only wrote of her hopes and dreams, of a life outside prison walls. She wrote of her desire to find true love and filled her letters with X-rated versions of the love she would bestow on the lucky recipient. The receiver read them and with each letter, his attraction to and desire for Sheila grew. He believed in her innocence and her promises of love but more importantly, his sexual appetites rivaled her own. He wrote of his own hedonistic desires with descriptions of bondage and, sadism, and his willingness to dominate along with the promise of devotion and eternal love.

Written in code, Sheila knew the authorities read her words, and she had no desire to titillate the warden or his lackeys, especially as discussions of escape became the main topic!

Two years from the date of her conviction, Sheila disappeared from her cell. They discovered Joe Trenton's body in her bed. The guard who delivered her mail had died with a smile on his face but a nail in his heart. Sheila had taken his clothes, his identification, and his car. She'd gotten away, walked out as though she owned the place. Joe Trenton, a guard for fifteen years, had fallen for his first prisoner and paid with his life.

After a thorough investigation, they found that Joe had procured a post office box in a nearby city and found Sheila's last letter.

Her last words were "La vengeance est un plat qui se mange froide" Revenge is a dish best served cold.  

Yolanda Renée © 2016

Yolanda Renée © 2016

Read more of 

Sheila's Murderous Journey 

just click the links!

Remember folks - this is all fiction -
an  exercise of the imagination!