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Weekly Contest #79
Ping!The glass jar shifted slightly as a lead pellet ricocheted off its rim.“That’s a hit.” said the boy holding the rifle. He was fourteen years old, growing bony but still soft-skinned and as beautiful as a child.“It didn’t break, Dan. It’s my turn now,” said Cley, who was standing next to him. Two years younger, he was slight-framed with a large head and an active, frowning brow. The boys knew each other well; Daniel’s father was dating Cley’s mother, and neither boy was happy about it.“Two turns each.”“No, you said one turn each. You’ve ...
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