new story

They shot the white girl first. Her head rocked from side to side, gradually lulling down like a pendulum. Then all at once, the ebbing motions came to a complete halt. Brackets of sunlight shone through the dust that became unsettled as her form collapsed on its side. The sobering thud had the weight of an anchor that was never to be lifted again. She had been my favorite, before all of this. Never even made a sound during the whole awful execution, as if she never saw it coming, without a strain of guilt, or grit in her yellow teeth.
Dad tucked the rifle under his arm, spat on Shelly’s body, and kicked her face in with (much like his new found face) his hardened leather boots. He looked at me as if he expected me to do the same.
Windchimes were a strange soundtrack for our dutiful and silent ceremony, but there they clanged, and clashed against each other on the porch, clinging together, coming apart, again and again like they always had.


not finished. i'll keep you posted!