KinfolkA Story by Antoñyo10-word contest entryThe blast appeared to echo for miles, and the nonchalant stroll of
Bardone told Christopher that there was a kill. How hunters enjoyed such a
thing as a hobby or sport puzzled him and would always be way beyond
his mental grasp. The thought of staying back at the abode cooking with the
wives yapping a-mile-a-minute was now a not-so-minor regret. “Hey, just how long is a ‘pinch’ in these parts?” he asked Bardone.
“Because we told ‘em we’d be back in one five hours ago?” To him, five hours in
the woods to make one shot was a waste of life. Bardone only gave him a look. Who names their
kid Bardone, anyway? Chris thought to himself, then answered. Somebody that thinks gun powder makes a nice
perfume, no doubt. Let’s just hope ol’ Jed Clampett doesn’t get too reckless out here with that flask filled with…Bob’s Midnight Moonshine. “Whoo-wee! That’s one righteous killshot at a hundred
yards away,” Bardone boasted as they approached the motionless figure. “This tasty badass’ll put
some meat on that scrawny lil city frame-o-yours. You can thank me later!” WHATEVER, your eminent lordship. Like, I’m actually going to eat that unwormed beast that
probably feeds on anything that exits the butts of the locals. Both abruptly looked towards the tree-lined sky at the sudden crackle of
lightning and tree bark, followed by the roaring thunder that signaled both rain and danger.
“I’ll find a thick branch to carry this thing,” Chris anxiously
volunteered, then added in a whisper while rushing off, “God, I adore you, but
if you could just wait until I get far enough away from him…” © 2016 Antoñyo |
StatsAuthorAntoñyoCity of Angels and Rams, CAAbout"I don't want to sound like I've studied writing, I want to sound like I've studied life." As a writer I tend to be a sponge for real life experiences; drawn to passion, raw & untamed emotion and.. more..Writing
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