Sorry guys… here’s part two.

Now, know there’s been quite a gap between posts. I understand that it’s not the best start to a blog. But at the end of the day I have been ill and I am in the middle of my exams. The experienced bloggers and writers amongst you are probably shaking your heads at the screen about now, but the damage is done. I’m making a point to post this today so that I can carry on with other topics, so please treat it more like a draft than usual. For those of you new to this blog, you can read the beginning of Felix’s escapade here.

And so, finally, let’s get on with the story…

 

***

Click.

My face was still there. Even if it was scrunched down into my accordion neck.

“How long before your luck runs out, kid? Two minutes? Three?” I looked longingly at the boarded up windows and ramshackle door. “Nobody knows you’re here.” Almost lovingly, he stroked my temple with the old, cold muzzle of the revolver. He was right. I didn’t even know where ‘here’ was.

“Still no?” he said, spinning the barrel with a flick of the wrist. “All I want to know is why. You ruined. Our heist. No way was that an accident. Accidents like those just don’t happen.”

I said nothing, because I knew that around me, they did. I was a walking improbability. I had just stepped into the road without looking and suddenly, this white van swerves around me at double the limit and hits this building. With a piano being hoisted in through the second floor window. Let’s just say that was the weirdest noise I have ever heard in my life.

Which might be approaching the end of the line. Again I was left staring down that dark hole at my mortality. I closed my eyes.

Click.

I sat there sweating as the minutes passed. Twenty. Thirty. My little friend was starting to get impatient. He was working the casing open with stubby digits, trying to work out which of the little pieces of his instrument didn’t want to kill me, after all. He had fired at me forty one times already. It was getting a little ridiculous. So of course, he snapped.

“I don’t know what kind of weird shit this is, but I’m sick of it!” Spittle flew into my face. His sweaty hands clicked the round into the chamber. His voice echoed hoarsely from the walls, shaking the air.

“No more chances.” He whispered, taking aim. And then he screamed.

A spider had been shaken from the ceiling by his voice, onto his shiny round face. The gun fell from his hand as he swatted it away. The room rang with the blast. And the bullet tore through the wooden chair leg like it was paper.

By now you’ve probably realised just how lucky I am. But that doesn’t mean I don’t bruise.

The chair fell, hard. Wood split and rope slipped. I grabbed the shattered leg and brandished it at him, daring him to move. I was at least a head taller than him. He didn’t.

When the police arrived the first thing I got was a good all round eye-rolling from the lead policeman. We’d met.

“Felix. Need I ask?”

I shook my head in exasperation. “I guess I just got lucky.”

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2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Produkcja Mebli
    Jun 20, 2012 @ 18:33:29

    I have been absent for a while, but now I remember why I used to love this web site. Thank you, I’ll try and check back more often. How frequently you update your web site?

    Reply

    • quintconsequential
      Jun 21, 2012 @ 09:40:08

      Thanks! To be honest I’ve not been updating that much at all recently, but I want to start writing more regularly soon. No promises but hopefully there will be more content in the near future. Qc

      Reply

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'Quintconsequential' is a word of my own invention, despite the definition in the style of the Oxford English Dictionary featured on the site. By all means, use it, whisper it, shout it from the rooftops. But please, remember that you heard it here first!
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