A Flash Fiction
He was the man who took everything away from her, just for not wanting to be with him. She stood in silence, staring at him with narrowed eyes. In her hands was a sword that she planned to use to plunge deep into his heart. Her heart was beating rapidly as the man took out a gun and aimed it at her. Her mind was screaming, Get out of there! Your sword is no match for his gun. Leave now!
But it was too late. She got herself into this mess. She knew what she was getting into when she barged in with the only weapon she had. It was all on her now.
“Hey,” she said, “what’s that shiny thing over there?”
The man looked, but not long enough for her to get the gun out of his hands. She stepped back to where she was before while he turned back and laughed.
“You may have fooled me that time, but not long enough, pretty.”
“Don’t call me that,” the young woman snapped.
“Oh? But you are,” he sneered. “You’re going to make such a pretty corpse, too.”
She was disgusted. In one leap, she aimed for the hand with the gun and cut it while a loud bang filled the room. Then darkness took over the place. The silence would have been enough to make someone run off in the other direction. A hand still around the gun laid on the floor in a pool of blood.
And both people were nowhere to be found.