Home > Flash Fiction, Random, Writing > Something wrong with that horse

Something wrong with that horse

I don’t know why, but I seem to be in some sort of funk. Two weeks ago, the story I wrote was just sad. I realize that there is a time to write something tear jerking, but I don’t know who would want to read it.

So last week, when it started to shape up that way again, I scrapped my story and wrote a new one.

This week, I wrote a tear jerker of an old yeller variety and shelved it before writing the blurb below. I don’t know why everything is coming out sad. Some psychiatrist somewhere probably does, but I refuse to pay to find out.

Who reads sad and depressing? I may have found my niche if I can find an audience.

Oh well, I decided to post something else. I just don’t think people want to read sad. If you think I am wrong, let me know.

Today’s story is another attempt to get out of the rut with a bang. I hope you enjoy it.

L. E. White


Josh rolled to the left, around the door frame, a second before the shotgun knocked the window out. The glass flew across the room, sharp edges cutting holes in the bags of white powder that sat on the little table.

Josh tried to keep going left, but he slammed his thigh into a table and fell on top of it. His leg went numb, but when the next blast knocked a hole in the wall a little ways in front of him, Josh guessed that tripping had saved his life.

For a few more seconds.

The pan on the next table was filled with crystals, just like the other eleven pans.

Too bad none of these had drugs in them.

When the shooter kicked the door open and peeked inside, Josh was hobbling towards the exit. The guy laughed and Josh heard the shotgun click as his attacker pumped it.

Josh grabbed the pan and turned back to face the door. He held it up in front of him like a shield, praying that the crystals wouldn’t be mistaken for drugs.

The man took aim, and Josh tried to smile as he thought about taking the building with him.

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