Harley Bailey Harley Bailey
Recommendations: 29

"sit facing the door"... not "set". Is "wooley" spelled correctly? Is is supposed to be "woolley"? I'm not sure.

Daniel Bird Daniel Bird
Recommendations: 47

Don, I'm the same way, for all the same reasons. That's just funny to me. I always have to see who's coming in. Its just an old habit.

Davide Castel Davide Castel
Recommendations: 39

I think it is 'Wooly' but it still doesn't look right. Oh dear!

Daniel Bird Daniel Bird
Recommendations: 47

Wow! What a powerful ending! Tragic, so fuelled with...well, with a lot of emotion! Holy crap! I didn't see that coming! It has me a little rattled to say the least! Good job!

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Don Yarber Don Yarber
Recommendations: 42

The Shooting


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She had a friend.

Written as an exercise for Elizabeth Tan's group


We don't get out to eat much anymore. Bills keep piling up. The cost of gasoline is creeping up like a cat stalking a mouse. Food is more expensive. Taxes are exhorbitant.


So when we do go to a cafe to eat, it is a real treat. I always try to sit facing the door. This is just an old carryover habit from the days when I was a little wild and woolly. I always wanted to know who was coming in the place. My wife has grown used to my idiosyncrasy and always sits with her back to the door so I can sit opposite her. Today is no different. 3 comments


I saw the man when he came in. I didn't know him, but as soon as I saw the look on his face I knew there was a potential for trouble. And then he pulled the gun. My first gut reaction was fear. Fear makes us do a lot of unreasonable things sometimes, but in my life experience I have found that fear often makes us do exactly the right thing. My fear was not for myself so much as it was for my wife. She didn't see the gun, I did. All of those thoughts ran through my mind in the amount of time it takes to squeeze a trigger.


The roar of the gun reached my ears a split second after I pushed my wife and her chair backwards, at the same time I dove for the floor. I heard her head hit the floor with a resounding whack and tension surged through my muscles like electrons through a high tension wire. I pushed with my arms and rose to hands and knees, then launched myself sideways over my wife's prone form. 1 comment


The gun sounded again and glass from a mirror cascaded down the wall like a waterfall in slow motion. My right hand went under my jacket and clawed at my 9MM semi-automatic pistol. I had no idea how many more rounds the shooter had in that gun, but I knew it was a revolver. Most revolvers have six rounds. He had fired two. Maybe the gun's cylinder had been completely full when he walked through the door, I don't know. I did not know if it was the only weapon he carried. But if luck is with me, he's got 4 rounds left.


I rolled slightly to my left, keeping my body between the door and my wife. She hadn't stirred yet and I thought that she might be unconcious from her head hitting the floor. I looked towards the door and saw that the shooter had turned to his left and was walking towards the cocktail lounge in another room. I raised my gun and fired. My first shot hit him high on the left side of his back and spun him around. As he spun, he fired another round. Then he saw me. He shot in my direction but too quick to take aim. It missed. Now he has two rounds left.


I kicked a chair at the next table. It scooted six feet away and the nut with the gun shot his 5th time at the chair. I half rose to my knees and shouted. As he turned to me I dropped flat. He shot again. Missed.


My next shot hit him in the chest and he was dead before he hit the floor.
My wife died of a concussion from a skull fracture. 2 comments


I thought wrong.


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