|Shot in the Dark
Author: Wiplash11 PM
I suppose when people cry bloody murder they do not mean this, this being the little short story who's summary you are reading.Rated: Fiction T - English - Crime/Horror - Words: 794 - Reviews: 2 - Published: 04-25-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3016795
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
It was midnight when it happened.
The night air was chilly. Old lights, memoirs of the past, shuddered on and off in the blink of an eye. Gravel crunched under the air tight wheels that spun at sixty miles per hour. An old binged up 1985 Cadillac came shooting out of nowhere, the cold night air parting before it.
Its dented silver hood glittered in the fierce moonlight. Yellow headlights streamed ahead, lighting up the otherwise black road. The motor rumbled a sweet sound like a soothing melody. But it was not the only sound in the darkness.
The cold hard caress of metal falling against concrete rang out in the dead of night. It was not heard over the motor, giving the owner a precious sigh of relief. The air in front of him solidified, testifying to the freezing winter air.
The driver of the Cadillac, oblivious to his shady visitor, drove on without a care in the world. His tousled graying hair was slicked back messily, like the driver had been in a hurry. His long legs controlled the grating pedals, his arms working the steering wheel.
His mouth was set in a firm line, betraying neither joy nor despair. His dark eyes narrowed at the straight road ahead of him, focusing intently on going home to his family.
Meanwhile, the only other person near the road smirked evilly. The Cadillac was approaching him swiftly, like it was asking for a death wish.
Well, I'll be granting that, the man thought with a sly smile.
He cocked his automatic pistol, the sheen of the metal glinting ever so slightly as the moon's light rained down on him. He took the safety off, adjusting his grip. His hands rested on the firm metal hand grip, his right middle finger snaking around the circular trigger.
All was set; all was ready.
The sniper smirked once again as he looked around the billboard he hid behind. The billboard was about twenty feet in the air, the rectangular cardboard advertising food. The short, foot long pathway behind the board was room enough for the sniper.
He may not be a traditional sniper, but the job offer wasn't traditional either. He'd just received word only two hours ago. It'd taken that long to get to this deserted interstate. He'd had no time to equip himself with the traditional weapons.
He extended his gun out, curling it around the billboard, his arms invisible in the dark of night. The Cadillac came bursting from the unveiled distance very fast, but not fast enough. The sniper pulled the trigger with a sadistic grin.
He yanked it another time before the recoil could claim him, emptying out the bullet magazine. He improved his aim as he went, shooting for the moving window.
The bullet sounds rang out strikingly loud on the quiet highway, but not a thing stirred.
Not a thing was there.
The first bullets bounced noisily off the passenger window, creating only tiny punctures in the glass.
The driver, alarmed, swerved out of the way, his Cadillac veering off the road onto the dirt. His tires ripped into the moist ground, trying to escape but it was not enough. The second round of bullets rained quickly and deadly down on them.
The windows shattered to bits with a bang. Clangs rang out as metal dents formed from deflected bullets. But the quietest sound was the most tragic of all. A wayward bullet smashed through the window, hurtling at an unconceivable speed to the driver.
Frozen in shock, his mind blank as paper, the driver didn't move. He watched terrified as the bullet painfully embedded itself in his chest, right on his heart. Blood splattered in the bulk of the car, staining broken pieces of glass as well as the leather seats.
Icy pain trampled his veins. It tore through his lungs, rippled through his brain. But then, with a small groan of agony, he died on impact, slumping dead in his seat.
Where his body failed, his spirit sighed in well earned relief. It floated out of the useless body, its positive spiritual energy finding its way back to his now widowed wife and fatherless children.
Shards of left over glass fell periodically, the only sound in the once more quiet night.
But not the only carnage.
AN: See what I mean? XD It may be a bit of morbid humor but its humor nonetheless. If this disturbed you, I apologize but I will also remind you this is a free website. Don't like, don't read. Feel free to leave comments whether they be praising or ridiculing. In fact I urge you to please review this modest short story.