Saturday, April 28, 2018

House call

‘I know he’s here, Mrs Brown.’

J.T. shifted his weight and tried to slow his wheezing.

‘And I’m telling you, he’s not.’

‘I appreciate you want to protect him, but I need ...’

‘He ain’t here!’

‘Mrs Brown, you’re a fine woman, a fine woman, but either he comes to the door or I come in.’

A pistol crept round the door frame.

J.T. swatted it aside, grabbed the wrist and pulled. Kept pulling until the young man flew down the stairs.


‘See what comes of lying, Mrs Brown. All I wanted was to talk. Now I’m breaking bones.’

A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Oh, now I want to find out more, Rob. That's a potent scene, dark and well-crafted.