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A blog for poetry, prose, and pop culture.

Sunday, December 16, 2007

Flash Fiction: Under a Dead Sun

Episode 3

Billy Oates was good and fucked. He had just planted two rounds of scatter shot into that things chest and it still kept coming at him. Billy jacked the two sepnt cartdiges out and reached into his shirt pocket for some more. He quickly chambered the rounds as the thing pulled in closer. He could smell it's fetid breath as the creature began to engorge his mouth.

Billy rammed the end of the scatter gun into the creatures maw and let fly with both barrels. Brains and other slimy fluids sprayed over the barn wall and back into Billy's hair. Finally the creature fell to the ground and stopped moving. Billy loaded his last two shells and poked the body. He sure didn't know what that things was, but he figured he better find his brother Warren, and make for town. Surely the Sherriff or old Boothe would have some answers.

He glanced up at the sky, looking for the sunrise that should have been here by now, and started thinking that he may still be good and fucked.

End of Line.
Gerrad

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