Pink Mist

Pink Mist

A Story by Lucas Donnan

Poking my head out around the corner I reload both my pistols.  The rifle was out of ammo, a glorified bludgeoning device.
I round the corner, both arms poised and ready.  The sun sharply reflected off my visor as my boots clanked loudly against the littered concrete.
he follows the barrel of his rifle out from his hiding spot, taking aim.
Too far to be effective and too low on ammunition to Rambo my way to him.
I make my way for the entrance of a building next to me.
He fires a quick burst.  The bullets become lodged in the concrete as I pass behind it.
I slow my breathing as I swallow hard
I hear his footsteps, going toward the barricade, trying to flank me.
Resting one of the pistols I brandish a grenade.
I see his reflection in the bakery's window across the street.
Crouching behind the barricade, his rifle resting and waiting for me.
I pull the pin and throw the grenade.
It flies through the air hitting and bouncing off the glass as bullets tear up the wall further.
I hear something inaudible before the signature explosion.
Dust kicks up as the ground shakes beneath my issued boots.
He hops the barricade, running with the expanding cloud of cover.  I see the shadow and draft my second pistol back into action.
Taking aim I fire seven shots at the darkened blur.
I walk into the cloud, both pistols still smoking and hot.
He lays on his back.  One side bleeding from shrapnel, the rest from five new holes.  The leg knee cap is obliterated as he squirmed on the street.
All I could think about was the pink mist.
I drop a pistol as my right shoulder splits with burning pain.  I stumble back.
The dust blows clear.  He has me.  Pulling back on the trigger the chamber expels nothing.  He was empty.
I take his weapon from his as a bullet tears through his wrist.
He shouts and tries to crawl back.  The blood drips from my fingers as ours mix on the concrete.
We're now blood brothers.
I like my pistol.
He closes his eyes.
The mist springs to life in a way that stops time.
It settles on the concrete and I remember how hot it is today.

© 2009 Lucas Donnan


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Added on July 12, 2009

Author

Lucas Donnan
Lucas Donnan

Iowa City, IA



About
As far back as I can remember I've lived inside my head, not really sure how to go about expressing these thoughts and feelings. Starting to take writing seriously during High School when I was part.. more..

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