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THE RIFLE -- Horror Short
The walk home from high school was long; the nervousness mounted high in the pit of his stomach ? the girl standing next to him was popular. She had light blond hair and a nice tight smile. She was slender and beautiful.
?Here it is,? he says, pointing at the old vintage rifle that rested above the mantle, ?my great-grandfather?s inheritance.? The gun was mahogany brown, with a golden signature near the lever-action that read: General Robert E. Lee.
?This is it? The one from your report??
?Yes? he said.
She reached up and took a hold of the gun, bringing it down slowly.
He smiled. He moved closer, looking over her shoulder and read the name aloud to her, ?General Robert E. Lee.?
He expected her to awe, but she didn?t. Why? Why weren?t they the same? All the nights alone in bed thinking that she was perfect for him and shared the same interests?? What about the rifle, the all-so-fascinating rifle?
He reached over her slender shoulder to take the rifle from her. But he moved too aggressively.
She screamed.
He missed and grabbed her right breast instead of the rifle.
She turned violently to escape him, to duck, still holding the gun.
He was still after the rifle.
She shot him.
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