Short stories I write when I'm bored

Bang Bang

He stares at me. Eyes pleading me not to, piercing into my soul. Begging me not to do this. I know I have to. What would happen to him next, would be too much pain for me to bare.

A tear trickles down my face, a bead of sweat runs down the side of his as I shake my head. He turns away from me and starts to run.

I hold the gun up and aim. My finger curls around the trigger. My heart pounds, my whole hand shakes. If I don't shoot him now then he'd be lost. I'd only have to shoot him later and it would be so much harder.

There is a loud bang as the bullet leaves the barrel and zooms towards its target. I see his face turn to look, his expression one of confusion, despair, pain and sadness all in one. Then it sags and his body falls to the ground, limp, lifeless. Dead.

My shoulders sag as I lower the gun. A single word pounds into my brain, pumping through my veins.

Murderer... Murderer...

But it was for his own good.

I slowly walk to his body. I look at his face,his mouth an O of surprise or shock, or maybe horror. His once vibrant blue eyes are pale, misted over, lifeless. Blood trickles from the gun shot in his head, staining his skin. The message grows louder, almost a chant, pumping faster around my body.

MurDerer!

MurDerer!

The guilt slowly pours over me like a wave in a storm. My vision goes blurry. I want this hell to end.

Murderer

Murderer

How could anyone live with this? The pain of knowing that you have to kill someone? The guilt of knowing that you took someone's life.

I hold the gun, with a shaking hand, to my head and stare at the ground.

I pull the trigger and...