Revenge is a Warm .45 by Darren Sant.

Ron Snape was going to die.  He didn't know it yet, but I was going to put a bullet in his brain. When Amelia came home with a note signed by him in her bag, it might as well have been his death warrant. Big time gang boss, racketeer and loan shark or not, he was going down.  No bastard messes around with my gal. Amelia was the love of my life, but right now all I could feel was hate.  I focused my hatred on the single finger that gripped the trigger of the Glock .45 I held.

The night was darker than the inside of a politician’s wallet when I saw his bulging, fat neck in front of me on Grafton Street.  Sheets of torrential rain fell and people scurried for their homes or nearby bars. My attention never wavered from the back of his head and his huge frame striding purposefully down the block. People ducked out of his way like gazelle in fear of a predator as he turned into Wardour Street. I knew the street well.  Amelia had a flat here.  I gripped the gun tighter, my fingers going white with the effort. Despite his sharp expensive suit, Snape still looked like a fucking gorilla at the circus.

As I followed him into the street a huge flash lit up the sky.  The thunder that followed matched the drumming of my heart as adrenaline pounded through my veins.  My spirits sank, as in a final confirmation of my fears the bastard stopped outside her door, rapping on it with a loud, self-assured knock.  My insides twisted in knots and I could stand it no longer. I raised the gun with shaking hands and slipped the safety off.  I yelled a loud primal, injured scream as I fired. Snape turned and slipped on the wet sidewalk. The shot whistled past him. At that moment my precious Amelia opened the door and the bullet hit her square in her beautiful face. A corona of blood briefly formed a crimson halo around her now ruined face as the slug slammed into her and she fell endlessly to the hard wet sidewalk. The wad of cash she held in her hand fluttered down after her like so much green confetti.

Darren Sant is a 40 year old writer living in the badlands of Hull.  His writings only get more twisted and cynical with age.  His insane musings have enjoyed publication in Byker Books Radgepacket series and also online.

Darren can be found on Twitter here: @groovydaz39.  He blogs once a week under the name 'Old Seth' here: http://www.craigrobertdouglas.com and has a new book review site here: http://santsrants.blogspot.com/

14 comments:

Paul D. Brazill said...

Very nicely done.

David Barber said...

I understood his anger and then felt his sorrow. You achieved so much with so few words with this story, Darren.

Well done!

McDroll said...

That's a tough one! No happy endings here.....

Great atmosphere and I could feel the rage!

nigel p bird said...

green confetti - lovely image to close on.

Anonymous said...

Michael A. Kechula said:

Terrific voice. Raw, harsh, down and dirty. Tragic, unexpected ending.

Chris Allinotte said...

This is raw atmosphere, and you keep the tension cranked tight throughout.

You feel that bullet hit his heart at the same time it hits its mark.

Very well done.

Julia Madeleine said...

That was tasty Darren. Went down nicelywith the first few sips of my cabernet sauvignon :)

Chris Rhatigan said...

Sheesh, that is dark and desperate. Well done, sir.

Mike Miner said...

I have to echo David, so much achieved with so little.

A Daft Scots Lass said...

Very poetically descriptive.

Groovydaz40 said...

Thanks for the great comments folks!
Sorry for the delay in responding I've driven over 600 miles in the last couple of days.

This one flowed from my brain nicely and speedily like all the good ones do.

William Dylan Powell said...

Love the line about the politician's wallet.

ajhayes2 said...

You are a bad, bad man, Mr. Sant. Hard as hobnails through flesh in the bottom of the pit. Good'un Daz. Cool.

Bill Baber said...

loved the way the tension built right to the sad end...