How to Hold a Gun

Reads: 239  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 1

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is strange but intriguing short story.
I don't know if its good or not.

Submitted: February 11, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: February 11, 2012



How to Hold a Gun

The sudden moment when your finger presses down ever so lightly.  You become the most powerful person on earth. You are a master and everything belongs to you. The sea thrashes out incredible waves of white water, the hills and mountains become higher, unable to be concurred. Storms hit cities with your control; you violently spread them further, keeping them widely untamed and furious. The ground crumbles within your hands, crushing it till dust.

Press it a little harder and you start to think. Your brain scrambles asking questions that make you think more. Your brain pulses and makes you shake. By now you have demolished every living thing in your way and figures plead and beg at your feet. The question that you having been dreading becomes vivid in front of your eyes. In flashing lights it says “I take it back”.

Almost at the end, your twitching finger continues to press a tiny bit more. A black whole opens up beyond the heavy rain. The darkness consumes you, grips its claws around your waist and pulls you in. You are devoured in an unwieldy universe and thick groans vibrate through your ears. You are possessed in a state of trance and confusion.

Now there is nothing left for you to do. You have pressed it till the very end and it locks back into place. Hearing, sight, feeling is taken from you. Your bones sit limp and twisted, moulded into a devilish shape and the flashing words return “I take it back”. Your lungs scream, making your insides squirm. You heave and gag, trying to force the disease from the pit of your stomach.

Drowned in shock, it all comes back at once. Realization hits you like sting from a bee. Power drips from your fingers and you are swamped in red. Freshly masked you wipe from your face a menacing grin. More destructive and almighty things lurk all around you. Everything now controls you, you are not safe.

The stone, black killer slips from your fingers. The disease is taking over you, running through your blood. Your knees collapse from under you and you fall next to a distorted figure. Their eyes reflect back at you, seizing your attention. As you sprawl away you drag red to the wall and your stiff fingers grope the killer. Twisting it around in your hand, you feel its energy, its influence. It’s dominance over you makes you week and you subject to its torment.

With no real understanding of this mighty opponent, you obey its command. The killer gives you orders as if not your hands. You grip it, this time you make sure not to think. You press down hard.


© Copyright 2019 hannah1847. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:




More Thrillers Short Stories