A bang and a flash of light. Blood on the sidewalk.
Target eliminated. The assassin smiles.
He can’t resist collecting a trophy. A look through the dead man’s belongings.
Nice watch. Rings are tacky. No cash, but plenty of cards. Driving license.
Wait…what’s his name?
Oh shit. Wrong guy.
"Mama always said "Life was like a box of chocolates..."
The trifles, baubles, and bric-a-brac that strike our fancy
Imagining books and music in quirky and creative ways
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A Writer's Journey
A Hopefully Formerly Depressed Human Vows To Practice Self-Approval
a 100-word story every day
ROBERT LAMBERT JONES III
A Poetic Wayfarer Writes
Tales of Unusual Strangeness 