Ink and bullets

Ink and bullets

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing29m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Jan 27, 2018
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Fiction
Paranormal
Ten years ago Abigail Chester's grandfather was shot dead in their backyard. Ten years ago Abigail Chester could only watch as the animation studio was claimed by flames. Ten years ago Abigail Chester just caught the shadows of her grandfather's creations running from the fire, never to be seen again. Cartoons aren't real. They're just drawings on papers, not living, breathing things. And they especially aren't running mafia's in tunnels under the ground.
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"Wait!" I called out to the dark shadow figure that was leaving without turning back. "Please," my voice wavered as I eyed the bleeding body that laid on the ground ay my feet. Swallowing the urge to vomit, I stepped over his body, reminding myself that the dead man was going to kill me if he wasn't dead. "Go home." The figure demanded in a low voice that echoed from the walls of the alley. I never believed in the stories about tall, dark-aura, scary men that roamed dark alleys like their home. The ones that wouldn't bat an eye at killing someone in order to get what they wanted. The ones who ran the most dangerous organizations, yet never got caught by the government security. I never believed that, it all seemed like a fantasy. That was, until it became my reality.

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