Haven’t posted a one word in awhile. Here’s a couple.
The red dot on my chest, dancing around like a less comforting type of fairie sprite, crawled slowly up the front of my sweater until its red glare flashed in my eyes. I squinted into the dimly lit space, remembering again why I always hated parking garages.
Bad things always happen in parking garages.
“We call ones like that a cracker.”
“They’re a particular breed of imp — a real gastronomic fondness for hard-shelled bugs of all sorts. Some folks call them renfrews.”
I felt, more than heard, the hammer click back. The sound and the vibration carried well through the barrel pressed to my temple. I tried to keep my face calm; I knew he didn’t like histrionics and things didn’t really look that bad.
“Let’s talk about my sister and the book you lent her,” his voice barely a whisper next to my ear.
Then again, things could get worse.
“…and this is the way the world goes… not with a bang, but a whimper.”
“You’re just bitter because Frexymedes decided to take the plunge and you didn’t.”
“You TOLD me not to.”
“And this one time you listened? No, this one’s on you, brother demon.”