A Cold Day South of the Border (A Freewrite Short Story)

in #story2 years ago (edited)

”No more excuses left, except the one to rip that asshole's face off and stretch it clean across the ball of my fist, eyeholes held in place by these two fingers. I ain’t the same man I was yesterday.”


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Joe pulled up at the abandoned shelter, his flaming motorbike growling to a halt. He checked his watch. Two minutes past three. That bitch ass had to be fast asleep on his piss-stained rag of a mattress in there. He scoured the surrounding area for any signs of life. None to speak of, bar the cricket’s incessant chirping through the stillness of the night. Four days gone and there had been no sign of him. The phone line was dead and most of his fleeting accomplice’s already scattered to the winds. Some were murdered, some got it even worse. The money was of no consequence anymore. Only a yearning for some sweet, lingering death dished out from his own capable hands.

He lowered the kickstand using the heel of his boot and dismounted. The loud crunch of gravel under his foot caused him to freeze. A subtle grimace crawled upon his face. The amount of time spent on that straight, parched never-ending highway rocked his usually impeccable judgement. Attention levels now adjusted back to maximum capacity, the other boot came down on the rough, dusty terrain with a new and concentrated ease. A soft thud still managed to dissipate around his large footprint, though quiet enough not to alert the unsuspecting sleeping fool. Moments like this had to be savoured, not rushed. He could almost hear the grim reaper sharpening his scythe just over his shoulder.

Each step drew him closer to the old, plywood door. The small outhouse almost glowed in the murky gloom, it’s luminous walls displaying various graffiti nametags in large, bold colourful lettering. The sole adjacent window was covered up with patches of newspaper. A possible concealed support structure pressed up behind it. Approaching with caution, a gust of wind caught the long ponytail trailing down his back, blowing it to one side. A few steps away from the entrance and he began the ritual unsheathing of the two-foot steel machete from it’s leather belt pouch.

A transient thought entered his mind. That of the numerous mangled bodies his actions had laid to waste in the past. Countless lives cut short with the same methodical precision he had grown so accustomed to carrying out. Gallons of blood spilt from shredded, spurting arteries. Jellied flesh hanging loose either side of the bastard's gaping wounds. The piercing cries of agony only feeding his torturous thirst for more butchery. But tonight was different. He would savour this beautiful death so long as Miguel’s desperate soul clung on to it's ravaged carcass.

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Hope you enjoyed this post, please look out for more on the way... (author: @ezzy)

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No no no no.. This can't be the end. I know it's a short story but can you please continue?

The suspense is killing me.

Thanks, dude! I do plan on expanding on this soon. :)

Awesome!!! I just followed you so that I can know when it drops and also for me to get more of your interesting contents.

@ezzy, This Story throwing the essence of one statement, Abandoned Corner of the World.

Have a wonderful time ahead and stay blessed.

Thanks, man! Missing your poetic "Splinterlands" masterpieces! :)

Welcome. Yes, I've stopped writing Splinterlands Poetry Pieces, but didn't stopped writing poetry pieces at all.

Thank you so much for your kind words and response. Stay blessed always.

Gallons of blood spilt from shredded, spurting arteries.

How graphic can a writer get! The story played out like a film before my eyes. I keep wondering if Joe will succeed this time or the hunter will turn out to be the prey. We'll see. Cheers!

Very kind words, brother! Many thanks... :)

Always my pleasure, sir.

A great little read

Bless... :)

Missing your posts @ezzy! I hope all is well.

Thanks, man! Just taking some much needed time out and spending it with the family. I guess all the crazy drama of late got to me a little.

Otherwise hope you are good. Wishing you all the very best, as always. :)

I'm glad to hear all is good. Everyone needs to take a breather from time to time. These times we're living in are beyond exhausting right now. Thanks and take care of yourself!

Hello, I hope that all is well. Your blog has been inactive for days now. Stay safe. Cheers!

Hope to be back soon, man. Many thanks for asking about me. :)

I'll be looking forward to seeing you back. Always my pleasure. Cheers!

You hit by covid shmovid or something?

Lol, no way, bro! All good my side. I think I got "post burnout", if that makes any sense. :)

Plan to restart again when my mind is in the right place once more. Hope all is well for you. All the best, my friend.

I see. I get it.
Yeah, posting every day is tedious asf.
Glad to know that you are alive. I will see you when you have your batteries recharged :-)

Howcome you don't keep posting? Your writing is amazing, and your rewards are...rewarding.

Hello @ezzy. I haven't seen your post here in a while. What should I do so I can get a little support from you. At least there is a little uvote from you in each of my posts. Sorry if I ask the wrong problem. I hope you can understand it.

my older brother died pay for my brother

Hugs dear friend. Successes in your work at Hive. Your evaluation is an encouragement for our publications. Thank you.