The crack of a pistol rips through the night.
Smoke curls from the barrel.
Red blossoms across his chest.
My scream comes out a whisper.
"No!"
The world fades away.
Updates on Fridays because apparently that is THE day to post.
Also, those kindergarten teachers were on to something - gold stars are fun. If you like the chapter, clickety-click on that guy and I'll do a little happy dance. In addition to warm fuzzies, stars are great motivation to keep writing.
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The Widow
Historical Fiction#621 in Historical Fiction The crack of a pistol rips through the night. Smoke curls from the barrel. Red blossoms across his chest. My scream comes out a whisper. "No!"
