Posts Tagged ‘Gun’
Mar
Dirt Nap
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
When you say ‘dirt nap’ it’s supposed to be frightening, right? But who doesn’t love a nap? It’s not menacing enough as a threat. Maybe if you said ‘dirt bath’ or ‘death nap’ or something. Then it would have a lot more weight. I mean you went through all the trouble of getting a gun and putting on that mask, and you’re undercutting the effect when you mention nap.
Shit, you’ve shot me!
Well the last thing I’m going to be thinking about as I bleed out is a quiet nap in the dirt, and that doesn’t sound so bad…
Jul
Standish
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Tyler unfolded from the blue compact. His knees hurt. He had suffered this torture for one reason: to keep Standish quiet…forever.
Ten years as a bartender at the Capital Club, the city’s most prominent private club, provided Standish with enough knowledge to end important careers, marriages, and lives. That knowledge became an opportunity. It needed to be stopped.
Tyler walked in, silenced gun in his coat pocket. Standish was behind the bar. A shot rang out. Tyler crumpled to the floor.
“Thanks, Joe,” Standish said, smiling. A man at the end of the bar nodded, finishing his bourbon.
“Anytime.”
From Guest Contributor Gary M. Zeiss
Mar
Keep Movin’
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
—Get in the car, doll.
—Where we goin’, Roy?
—To get us some money.
—Gonna buy me something pretty?
—The world, babe.
—Slow down. You almost—
—Look in your purse.
—A gun.
—Know how to use it?
—Point and pull?
—That’s all.
—Who’m I gonna point it at?
—You’ll see.
—Why the mystery?
—There’s Buster, on that park bench.
—You gonna stop?
—He ain’t movin’.
—Looks like a bullet hole in his head.
—Change of plan, doll.
—Who killed him, Roy?
—Wasn’t me.
—Didn’t Buster teach you all you know?
—Main thing he said was, keep movin’.
—Slow down, Roy.
From Guest Contributor Joe Surkiewicz
Joe writes from northern Vermont.
Feb
Vegan Vigilantes
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The joint was cased. All that remained was the decision: this coffeehouse or the Dunkin’ Donuts on the bypass?
Roland sauntered inside and scanned the menu–coffee and sandwiches–on the back wall.
“Can I help you?”
“Anything vegan?”
Bewildered: “Uh, vegan? Er…”
An older barista, working a blender: “Nothing vegan.”
Roland stepped back, leaned against the wall, phone to ear: “Mook, it’s the shop on Main. Even worse than Dunkin’. Pick me up in two minutes.”
He replaced the phone with a gun and approached the counter.
“Since your menu isn’t cruelty-free, I’ll take your money. Open the register.”
From Guest Contributor Joe Surkiewicz
Joe writes from northern Vermont.
Jul
Melodious Birds
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Erik sat silently in the small attic, fatigued, and his legs aching from being crunched together in the confined space. His father had told him to stay quietly hidden until the birds chirped.
Before the gunshot, his mother screamed. His father yelled a profanity, then he heard another gunshot and muffled his cries.
As Erik awakened, the birds sang. He slowly opened the creaking door and went downstairs.
In the kitchen, his parents bloodied bodies laid on the floor and a Nazi soldier stood against the wall.
“Ich habe gewartet.” I’ve been waiting.
A gun was aimed at Erik’s head.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Apr
1970s Justice
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
HISTORICAL FICTION SUBMISSION:
Nevada shivered from the rush of adrenaline. Life was not fair, so why should she be? She cried for justice for her daughter. He laughed. She had never fired a gun. So uninformed she didn’t know if she held a rifle or shotgun, nor the proper distance from her target. She took the gun, the one he used camping and to bag deer, from his end of the closet. She did not know the blast radius or the kick that would knock her on her ass. She did not know how to hunt a moving target, but she could learn.
From Guest Contributor Leah Holbrook Sackett
Mar
Panic At Sea
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Mary attached her life vest to her body, squeezed through the screaming crowd and made her way to the lifeboats. The cold air chilled her body and numbed her feet; she could barely walk. Frozen in fear, she waited. After being placed in the lifeboat, panicked passengers tried to jump in as the deck hand began lowering them down. He took out his gun and started firing at no one in particular and shot a poor elderly man.
Mary, stunned, looked at the dark sea beneath, bodies floating by.
Titanic began to sink, and the lifeboat collapsed into the ocean.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Jan
The Chronicle of Higher Education
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
What is inside you is going to come out. I think of it as a crime scene. You have brought your dead cat, placing it wrapped in a pink baby blanket on the floor. I feel in the wrong just being there. Before the exam starts, you ask the girl seated behind you for paper, but are given a slice of bread. I can’t explain it. I would need to Google you to find out. At the front of the room, the proctor makes a gun with his thumb and forefinger and then holds it to his temple and fires.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie Good is the author most recently of Stick Figure Opera: 99 100-word Prose Poems from Cajun Mutt Press. He co-edits the online journals Unbroken and UnLost.
Jan
The Priest
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
It looked like the kid in the black hoodie had a gun in his hand. And, we all knew that the officer, who was coming around the corner, couldn’t see him.
The priest raised the Glock and fired, hit the kid square in the chest, knocked him flat.
The guy in charge whistled. “Why’d you shoot?”
“Thought he had a gun.”
He reran the video. “It’s an axe—he’s splitting wood.”
Everyone could tell the priest felt foolish. No matter. We got on the bus and rode to the shooting range. We wanted to see them shoot the 50-caliber rifle.
From Guest Contributor Andrew Miller
Andrew retired from a career that included university teaching and research. Now he has time to pursue his long-held interest in creative writing. Check out some of his publications at: http://www.andrewcmiller.com/
Jun
Just Another Day
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Officer Barrett aimed and fired his gun, hitting the man in the shoulder. The criminal dropped his weapon and screeched in pain.
“On your knees, hands behind your head,” Barrett said, cuffing the man’s hands.
“Take it easy, I have a bullet in my shoulder,” he wriggled as Barrett pushed him to his feet.
“Better than a bullet in your head, like you did to that poor woman’s husband. You’re going away for a very long time. This was your last house robbery.
Barrett put him in the squad car and slammed the door.
Just another day on the job.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher