Untitled flash fiction for Friday Fictioneers. 100 Words.
We were fifteen and looking for a place to shoot. I carried the pistol.
We walked railroad ties near idle coal mines.
Jimmy saw abandoned warehouses and ran ahead.
I heard him scream. I clicked off the safety and saw two men kicking Jimmy.
I yelled, “Stop!” One guy charged. I shot. I’d dropped the gun when it recoiled.
The other guy charged. I picked it up and shot two more times. He tried to run away. I shot again.
We pushed the bodies down an old coalmine shaft.
Jimmy is gone. I alone know where those assholes are buried.
Look both ways and keep your powder dry.
Mind the gaps between the ties.