By Jo Gatenby
Moonlight shimmers on the spreading black pool.
Diane’s battered mind struggles. If the color’s wrong, maybe he isn’t dead.
“Get up, Jack,” she whispers. But he lies there, his stillness mocking her. Trembling fingers drop the gun. She melts to the ground, forming her own fractured puddle.
Someone must have heard the shot and called the police. Gentle hands lift Diane to her feet, but she still winces. Several broken bones this time.
The light switches on and black turns to neon red blood, splashed across the walls—most of it hers.
But if the color’s right, maybe I’m finally free.
Such a powerful story with entrancing writing.
Appreciate that, thanx!
Well done Jo. As usual
Ah, thanx!
Loved the several twists and final reveal of this – skilful writing!
How kind of you, thanks for reading…
Nice twist at the end!
Thanx for reading… I do like a good twist!