This is a story I wrote for Laurence Simon's 100 Words Story challenge over on OneADayUntiltTheDayIDie.Com. If you write words, you should go over there and do a couple of the challenges.
The only thing that saved ol' Jim Malone was the wet darkness of the city street. Leaning back to avoid the crooked merchant's fist, the old war wound and rot-gut whisky conspired to plant him face-first on the pavement.
All the way down he's looking at the flash of the tommy gun. That's got to be Li-Sheih's boys. "Crap," he thought to himself, "led them right to the old man."
He woke next to an old dead body, the crowd starting to close in; pellets of tea scattered on the sidewalk and the stench of pu-ehr in his nose.
The only thing that saved ol' Jim Malone was the wet darkness of the city street. Leaning back to avoid the crooked merchant's fist, the old war wound and rot-gut whisky conspired to plant him face-first on the pavement.
All the way down he's looking at the flash of the tommy gun. That's got to be Li-Sheih's boys. "Crap," he thought to himself, "led them right to the old man."
He woke next to an old dead body, the crowd starting to close in; pellets of tea scattered on the sidewalk and the stench of pu-ehr in his nose.
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