Tuesday, November 8, 2011

A Sense Of Purpose

Crenshaw settled in on the moonlit balcony. It was an absolutely perfect vantage point. He wondered when anyone would find the bodies of the couple who owned the home to which this perfect balcony connected.

He assembled the rifle expertly in the darkness. His pulse quickened and he felt more alive than at any other time. A sense of purpose began to evervesce up from within him like bubbles in champagne.

He sighted down into the gathering. He didn't really care WHY someone wanted such a darling little girl dead. As she blew out her candles, Crenshaw blew out her brains.

2 comments:

  1. I really like the detail regarding champagne. If I had anything to change about it, it would be the last sentence. The writer gave me a sense of calm and internal rush, but then the last sentence, like what it describes, breaks the sense of eloquence I enjoyed from the start. Fellow Redditor.

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  2. Thank you for the feedback. Actually, the last sentence was very much untended to have that effect. As calm and serene as Crenshaw might seem to be, he DOES kill people for a living. So, the intent with the ending was to snap him (and the reader) back to reality and all of its harshness. Thanks again for the feedback.

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