(no subject)
It was mid-afternoon when a tall, unfamiliar man stepped foot on the narrow sidewalk. The streets were freshly paved, but the record-breaking snowfall had left its mark on the roofs and yards of the neighborhood. The snow had just left enough coverage to conceal five troublesome brothers and their endless ammunition of snowballs. Quietly, they wailed for their next victim, mechanically shaping the condensed balls of ice and snow. Their production was suddenly interrupted by the echoing clunks of rubber soles against cement--clank, clank, clank. With each step, the five menacing boys crouched behind their shield of snow, and gripped their freshly made mischief in the palms of their pre-pubescent hands. The stranger to their street must pay.
On the far end of the sidewalk, slowly approaching the boys, was the strange man. He wore a knee-length trench coat and a matching bowler hat, resembling the garb a mobster would wear in the movies. Embraced in his gloved-fingers was an ordinary maple colored briefcase. As he slumped closer to his destination, he noticed the fuzzy tips of five brightly colored snow caps. A wall of potentially hazardous snowballs stood tall from the ground. Evident to what might soon happen, the man laid his briefcase on top of the waist-high sow, unbuckled the locks that were clasped shut, and lifted the top to reveal a plush dark casing. Within it, the dark imprint sunk in to form a shallow hole, and within its deep pocket was a sleek piece of crafted metal--a machine gun. The man lifted the metal gun from its enclose, mounted his finger on the trigger, and aimed the gun and the oldest of the children. The boy's rosy red cheeks had faded to a pale white color, blending him in with the snowy surroundings. He extended his legs, and ran for his life, all the way back home. As a result, his four little brothers screamed like four little girls, and they too, joined him in the race to escape this crazy man.
The gun-holding man continued to walk down the path, past the opening where the boys had been. He smirked, still clutching his gun. As he strode along the empty path, his loyal rubber soles slipped on a patch of hidden ice, and as if a rug was ripped from under his feet, he fell to the ground. His head hit the ground hard, rendering him unconscious, but as his body fell, the shock caused his finger to slip on the trigger. The bullet traveled swiftly through the chamber, piercing the brisk air, and shot off into the sky. The man lay there paralyzed. As gravity took its course, the bullet slowly began to change direction, and came plummeting back down, towards the limp body.
On the far end of the sidewalk, slowly approaching the boys, was the strange man. He wore a knee-length trench coat and a matching bowler hat, resembling the garb a mobster would wear in the movies. Embraced in his gloved-fingers was an ordinary maple colored briefcase. As he slumped closer to his destination, he noticed the fuzzy tips of five brightly colored snow caps. A wall of potentially hazardous snowballs stood tall from the ground. Evident to what might soon happen, the man laid his briefcase on top of the waist-high sow, unbuckled the locks that were clasped shut, and lifted the top to reveal a plush dark casing. Within it, the dark imprint sunk in to form a shallow hole, and within its deep pocket was a sleek piece of crafted metal--a machine gun. The man lifted the metal gun from its enclose, mounted his finger on the trigger, and aimed the gun and the oldest of the children. The boy's rosy red cheeks had faded to a pale white color, blending him in with the snowy surroundings. He extended his legs, and ran for his life, all the way back home. As a result, his four little brothers screamed like four little girls, and they too, joined him in the race to escape this crazy man.
The gun-holding man continued to walk down the path, past the opening where the boys had been. He smirked, still clutching his gun. As he strode along the empty path, his loyal rubber soles slipped on a patch of hidden ice, and as if a rug was ripped from under his feet, he fell to the ground. His head hit the ground hard, rendering him unconscious, but as his body fell, the shock caused his finger to slip on the trigger. The bullet traveled swiftly through the chamber, piercing the brisk air, and shot off into the sky. The man lay there paralyzed. As gravity took its course, the bullet slowly began to change direction, and came plummeting back down, towards the limp body.