The Visitor

Hello there! I’ve been absent for almost 2 weeks, having some side work with university and having my big summer travel, all the way to the USA (which, by the way is a long, long 10 hour flight) for 4 months of working. So aside from a little jet lag and getting used to the time difference (8 hours from Bulgaria),  and in general to the “being away” feeling, I am now trying to find my head and write something this week before I start work. So, for now I leave you with this small story.

 

The Visitor

 

BANG!
The bullet dug dirt next to Tom’s boot.
“I only want to see my daughter, Clive.”
With wobbly hands Clive aimed again. His countenance revealed fright.
“You ain’t coming further boy. Take a hike or I’ll put you to sleep.” growing cantankerous, his acrimonious oratory showed he means to kill.

Tom’s face changed from the pleading expression to that bound to kill if refused again. His eyes grew cold by the minute. “I have to see her.”

Clive took a step further, boldness filling him; predator like, a play-pretend to intimidate the opponent. The shotgun  stayed close to his chest, rhythmically moving with his breathing.

“She don’t want to see you. She’s scared of you. Hell, I don’t blame her. You got too much dark in you. I ain’t letting you past this porch. What’s it gonna be?”

Tom took a deep breath. He caressed his sapphire ring; right hand tensing, his veins popping out. The two gold lions supporting the gem became animated; their encrusted eyes turned to him with a carnivorous glimmer.

“Step away old man.” His voice was a hiss.
Clive fired.
An illusory octagon entrapment caught him second after the bullet erupted. Blackness engulfed him, tongues of dark material licking his parched skin. In blindness he searched for an escape, dropping the shotgun, forgetting the bullet. A trail of sparkles caught his attention. It seemed distant. He stared at it.

The bullet ricocheted before piercing his temple.

Tom stepped over the body of the old man, his blood descending down the wooden stairs, dripping in large bloody droplets.

The door swung open; the two lions, mere phantasms of white smoke disappeared behind Tom, his magic easing.

“Scarlett sweety, daddy’s home.”

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