May 15

Cold-blooded Murder

May held the gun to June’s head. An itch deep beneath her skin begged her to pull the trigger, to end it right here and now. But she had to do it right or it would all be for nothing. “Any last words?” She smirked.

“You’ll never get away with this,” June said. He was stoic—strangely confident for someone with a gun to their head. Did he know something May didn’t? She doubted herself for the shortest moment in time. Sweat dripped across her brow and she wiped it away. She clenched her teeth, determined.

“Watch me.” May pulled the trigger. She’d won and there was nothing he could do about it.

She looked June dead in the eye. The seconds ticked past. Seconds turned into minutes, and she was sure those minutes turned into hours.

She waited, and when nothing happened, she said, “June, I shot you! Play fair!”

“Yeah, but my magic cape makes me immune to bullets.” He flourished his bright-red cape as if that somehow absolved him of cheating.

May bonked him on the head with the butt of the gun. “I’m not gonna play with you if you’re gonna cheat!”

June rubbed his head. His sniffled, his eyes puffy and red. Then he said the two worst words May had ever heard: “I’m telling.”

“No no no no no no!” May cried. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!”

The word started like a lowing—as if June were a cow—and it built into a high-pitched scream. “Moooooom!” He jumped to his feet, his head cradled between both hands.

May threw herself at him, her arms wrapped around his torso, and tackled him to the ground. He flailed and kicked and wiggled his way free. May grasped his cape and he shrugged out of it. He burst into a run, far out of her reach.

“It was an accident!” May ran after him. “You can have the gun now, June! Please! Don’t tell mom!” I’m gonna be in so much trouble! she thought. Desperate to stop him at any cost, she threw the gun at him and struck him in the back of the leg.

He let out a ghastly wail, though May knew it didn’t hurt that bad.

“What are you two doing?!”

Oh no. May froze, her eyes wide with fear. The primal terror filled her up, rooting her to the spot like a statue.

Mom was coming.

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Prompt #1: Kill a character


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Posted May 15, 2019 by izzy in category "Projects", "Shorts

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