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How did I get here? It’s all happening too fast, too loud. I need some silence. I need to recollect. I’m here now, I know that, but I wasn’t always. No, I wasn’t, I remember being outside, in the rain, pouring down an ocean on me. They were after me back then, they didn’t get me. Now I’m here. I came here for the quiet, but it’s not. It’s too loud, too many people, and not any good people. No, wait, there was one. Continue reading “The Trails Run Frail (Part 5/5)”
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The bloke waving the rifle is on the floor now, grasping his bullet wounded leg and winching in pain, biting his lips to keep from crying. I may be old, but my aim is steady through experience, accurate through practice and precise through emotion, and I’m overflowing with it right now. I turn my sight towards the big fella now, and he’s still lying there on the floor, not even trying to get up, as he bloody well shouldn’t, blood seeping onto his chest from the deceased fella atop of him, shot straight in the neck, occasionally squirting some out onto the floor. The fella with the bruised face is now crouching in front of the window, and the little wuss is sitting to the right of my feet, next to the burnt closet, shivering and trying to cover his face and his ears, sobbing something to himself.
But I have no time for these monsters. One way or the other, they all are responsible for my daughter’s death. I’m trying to maintain myself, to keep my hands from quivering with regret and loss and my eyes from flooding, but I cannot. There’s too much rain out there, too much blow, and I cannot call anyone at this hour, no police, no rangers, no help. Yet, I will not let that stop me, my daughter will be avenged. I accidentally glance at her burnt remains and turn quickly towards the bloke with the bleeding leg. What have you done to my child? Wasn’t her mother enough? Wasn’t her life enough? Her own child? Wasn’t my weight on her enough? You… One of you took her from me. That chance to let her be more than what she got. By all that’s in my might, there shall be repercussions, she shall be avenged. Continue reading “The Trails Run Frail Part 4 Of 5”
PART 3 OF 5
The beds are just too damn hard, I dunno how Jared and Denis managed to snore through most of the night, over all that persistent thunder and annoying pattering against the walls. It’s still dark and windy outside and from all I can tell from the sound is that it’s getting worse. Swell, just swell. Just hope this storm blows off sooner than later, it feels like it’s been at it for days now and I ain’t paying this old crook for another night. I sit up on my bed, if I can call it that, thing feels like its stuffed with damn straws, but I doubt this crook could even afford those. No one probably ever rents a room into this depth of the hunting grounds, poor sods who do gotta pay up some high greens for crap services.
No electricity either, peachy, damn crook couldn’t afford to invest in something to withstand the storm, having his own customers crawling and tapping around his floors to find the matchsticks to his old candles. I’m bored, tired and fed up now, so I get up and look over at the two guys sleeping, all cuddled up in the chill of the night, turning over in their little hen nest of a bed, and I grin. These morons look so stupid when they are sleeping. Continue reading “The Trails Run Frail Part3”