My Saturday night gun fight story, it will grow as inspiration strikes me!
A gentle breeze blows down the road, sweeping pieces of
paper with it. The neon lights of the surrounding buildings cast dancing shadows
across the walls and asphalt on the abandoned street. In the alley, the burning
red glow of a cigar glints off mirror polished sunglasses, just above a
straggly mustache.
Running footsteps break the silence, what could have been
described as a well-dressed man bolts up the road, shirt ripped, blood dripping
from his face, the remains of a tie flapping behind his head. Panicked and
scared he stops in the middle of the road scanning nervously around for a sign
of an absent pursuer. Breathing heavily he bend over and places his hand on his
thigh.
The red glow intensifies as the last puff is taken. The
cigar is discarded and stood on as he steps out of the darkness of the alley, a
tower of a man and just as well built. His boots hit the ground like
sledgehammers ringing into the silent night, his hand reaches under his coat,
appearing again with a gun drawn and cocked. Fluid and purposeful he brings the
gun to bear on stranger in the street.
Three gunshots ring out echoing and bouncing off the walls
as the shadows continue to dance their hypnotic steps. With a smile the gunmen
continues walk toward the “well-dressed” man. The moment slows and almost freezes
in time with the metallic ring of metal on metal as the bullets connect with
the scared stranger. The gunman stops dead in his track and raises his eyebrow
at this most unexpected event.
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