Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Summer Shotgun! by Time.Is.Elusive (read more books txt) 📖
- Author: Time.Is.Elusive
Book online «Summer Shotgun! by Time.Is.Elusive (read more books txt) 📖». Author Time.Is.Elusive
The guy adjusted his bandana . “You know what I want. You must have seen the movies. I know there isn’t a panic button under the counter, so don’t try to convince me there is so I’ll leave. I know there’s no security camera. Just give me all the money in that there cash register.”
She slowly opened it up and silently handed over all the money. As he grabbed it, she saw his wrist. On it was a tattoo—the same unique tattoo her stepbrother had. She looked up and met familiar green eyes as Jesse pulled the trigger.
I saw the car in the driveway a second before my pesky little brother did. “I call shotgun!” I cried, running to the door. He passed me.
“I beat you to the car! I get to ride in front!” He rested his hand on the car door, under the newly tinted windows.
“But I’m older!” I whined.
“By only two years!” He stuck out his tongue and opened the door.
My eyes widened. Jim turned to see what I saw: our mother in the driver’s seat with a hole in her neck and blood all down her snow white blouse.
I opened the driver’s door to my car—a present from my parents—and slid in, smiling. It was finally summer!
As I looked down to buckle my seatbelt, I saw another note, folded in half and resting in the passenger seat. I unfolded it and read, turning paler with every word.
I know you cheated on your boyfriend.
I know the baby isn’t his. I haven’t told
Hunter yet, but I will. Just give me what I
Asked for last time—you in my bed. If yes,
Be at the baseball bleacher at 3:30. Remember,
I will tell him.
Publication Date: 07-10-2012
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