50 Word Story
The boy gazed at the ribbon of smoke rising like a genie from the rifle’s eerie orifice. Dumfounded by the pain, his eyes lowered sluggishly to the warm crimson puddle burgeoning around his toes, then forward to the still life of his father, the wife beater. Worth the busted shoulder.
posted by timeintotime at 4:08 AM
1 Comments:
loved what you were able to communicate in such few words.
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