Bloody Rain

He was a fairly well built young man. Around 14, with curly, supple blond hair. His deep green eyes seemed to always be saying something. They twinkled with every laugh, and with every tear became deep pools of unescapable darkness. He lay in the meadow gasping for air. He was running out of blood fast. The 38 caliber bullet had peirced his right atrium 3 minutes and 30 seconds ago, the final seconds of his life were ticking away. His blood mingled with the rain falling gently on the meadow of green in which he lay. His last breath rattled in his throat. His heart beat its last. A cruel smile creeped slowly up his killer’s face.

View this story's 1 comments.