My right hand feels much lighter in comparison, barren of any object to grasp. The backpack on my back is noticeable, I can feel it on me but I wouldn't describe it as heavy. It has the strongest piece of rope I could find and some matches in, as well as a small bottle of gasoline. It's my favorite backpack, small and made of this beautiful baby blue leather. The breeze whispers in my ear, egging me on to go faster down the side-streets and up to his window. I work on silent as well as speedy, and my hands are no longer shaking as I grasp onto the old wood. I push up as carefully as possible, pulling an expression that is halfway between a wince and a cringe as it stopped at the bit it usually screams at. However, even his house is on my side tonight and it finishes rising without a single sound.
YOU ARE READING
Murder Machine - Short story (2200 words)
Mystery / ThrillerA young wife has had enough of her husband treating her like an obedient little machine he owns, so she takes her revenge. Meant to be read in one to two sittings, that's why the parts are so short!
