Ending the year with the start of a new story or possibly novel. Opinions? Reactions? Where it will end I do not know yet…
The day’s cold assaulted him with snow.
He took a deep breath as he straightened upright upon escape from the car’s driver’s seat before reaching beneath his jacket. One hand wiped his wet brown hair from his tired blue eyes while the other fished free a gun from its holster. He toyed with the idea of placing the barrel to his forehead. He’d done it before. The idea withered away and died as he chose instead to stare down at the ice of the frozen river.
Whether minutes or hours had passed was unknown to him. All he was sure of or could be aware of was a very tall female with long black hair and hazel eyes calling out, “Tom.”
He could not be certain if the name belonged to him or another.
The woman repeated her shout, which did nothing to clear the confused mud from his mind. He just stood shivering in the snow, his gun now pointed at the female as he considered the mysterious intruder. She was dressed entirely in grey – jacket, tights, and hip high boots. A green headband was stylishly placed over her narrow hazel eyes. Her breath escaped her lips in a chilled puff as she called out the name a third time.
This time he replied with a bullet.
Blood streamed from her chest wound and a surprised look was etched on her face as she fell. Her limp body landed on the ice strewn ground and was quickly claimed by snow.
He gave the gun’s bullet chamber a spin before lifting the weapon and placing the barrel to his forehead. Closing his eyes, he pressed the trigger.
Music roared its echo within his ears as he was awakened to see colorful lights flashing. Groggy but less confused, he lifted his head from the table’s sticky surface and picked up the glass sitting before him. He shifted the glass and stared at its shifting contents. A quick sniff of the clear drink assured him it was whisky with the addition of ice cubes that clattered as they hit the sides. He took a big gulp of the liquid and let his vision flow across the crowded dark room to one of the twin stages. Stirring himself awake, he reached beneath his tan jacket into a pocket and felt the gun there.
The stage was taken by an amazonian dancer wearing a skimpy green outfit that hid little of her shapely body. Her hips wiggled in time to the song as she sauntered center stage. She had hazel eyes which sparkled in the flashing lights and long strands of black hair flowing over her bare shoulders to the midsection of her back. As she began to swing her hips, he rose and pulled forth his gun while approaching the stage.
There was a surprised look on her face at the sight of him. A stare of recognition and horror quickly replaced the look on her thin face of sharp features. Her lips twisted to form a scream, which was drowned out by the music and then by the repeated discharge from his gun.
It was the first time the guys at the club had fled the stage so quickly, and the action was accompanied by screams from others assembled in the club who joined the stampede from the stage area as well as the shooter.
He halted at the stage. There was no need to climb up and check the bloody body for a pulse. As others shouted and scrambled about the dark room, he spun the weapon’s chamber and raised the gun to his head. He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.
Once again, quiet darkness enshrouded him only to be soon replaced.
© 2018 W.P. Rigler