Creative Writing -The cold metal of the revolver made my blood curdle, just one tiny but significant movement, and I could end another human life.

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An eerie silence pierced the ice-cold winter’s night. The masses of stars scattered along the horizon illuminated the darkness whilst a spine-chilling breeze was wailing deafeningly like a treacherous wolf. The night was a soul tormented by the devil.

In the secluded distance, concealed deep within a forest, I lay listening to trees murmuring in a melodic tune. I felt like a wounded dog howling for its owner, as I glanced up into the glistening sky, my heart filled with grief. An excruciating pain in my left arm was all that kept me conscious and it was an unpleasant reminder of a bullet wound. Gazing at the sky, I gradually perceived a nauseating reek smothering the thin air around me. The source of the revolting stench was a decrepit shed which contained the deceased remains of my victims. At the time of their unfortunate deaths, they were in the wrong place at the wrong time; they had crossed paths with me; a regular man unlawfully indicted of a felony. As I thought of my ill-fated victims, I became aware of a mysterious silhouette approaching me. Hesitatingly, I took out my revolver out of its holster. It was laying there like a prisoner in a cell, ready to flee and cause havoc. The cold metal of the revolver made my blood curdle, just one tiny but significant movement, and I could end another human life. Another name added to the ever-growing list of people who confronted me on my pursuit to freedom. I lay on the damp soil, breathing inaudibly whilst considering my actions. My decision was confirmed when I glimpsed the gleaming shape of a handgun. From my advanced weaponry knowledge, I realized it was a Beretta 93R, designed in the 1970s; the gun was not very sophisticated but still deadly. I confined my serene thoughts into a corner of my mind, and then I gripped the revolver firmly with my clammy hands and pulled the trigger.

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The moments that followed were one of the most electrifying in my life; the silhouette stumbled forward and collapsed. When his ghastly face became visible my heart froze in shock. His piercing eyes were bulging out like a maniac and were as red as fireballs. Moments which seemed like years passed, when I finally managed to recover from the shock, then I began to scrutinize the man’s clothes for any verification of his identity. I soon found my luck in one of the man’s back pockets where he kept his wallet. The elegant wallet was made of smooth and ...

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