Flash Fiction: Till Next Time.


My sweaty palm held the stock of the sawn off gun tightly while the other wrapped around the barrel. Shadows of the marauders were visible from under the door.

‘You fuckers are not getting away this time’, I mouthed.

I woke up to the fuzzy sight of my wife’s breast amidst her agitated taps. She had been breastfeeding Oreoluwa.

Won tun tide o!’, she whispered.

In a frenzy, I reached for the gun wrapped in an old newspaper under the bed. I told the shaken woman to lock the door as I tiptoed to the foyer.

Facing the entrance door, I squeezed the trigger. Then two more times. No sound rang out.

Fuck! I didn’t collect the shells from Audu before he traveled.

The banging persisted. I dashed to the kitchen exit and tucked the firearm under a pile of dry twigs. I thereafter returned to let the robbers in.

Advertisements

2 responses to “Flash Fiction: Till Next Time.

  1. My goodness! Imagine. How could he have forgotten? 😂😂
    lifeofdammy.com/candid-talk-is-this-really-love/

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s