Random short fiction 36.18 from El Portal — here’s the link.
A spatter of phrases that ricocheted off my eyeballs:
stick skinny Terry
fired his shot precise
he barely had to look down the barrel to know where those wild projectiles would lacerate
pushed and pulled his hand toward some purpose, and he so easily hit his target dead
Jimmy’s sad heavy canter brought him down the bare wooden stairs
his sad pile of a mother another two-liter Fanta
a perfectly sorry example of someone taking advantage of the government
he was raised on slurred values and neglect
Unable to prevail, a weak power of will
a self-imposed bright future
rusting and rotting into his obesity
disappearing from his grease soaked reality
covering everything in an engulfing deprivation
his laugh hammers away, loaded with degradation
blood and chaos
You can almost piece the story together from those fragments of textual forensic evidence, though most were collected from the first half of the text. Any other witnesses care to testify?
