Trigger Fingers

May 1, 2012

Writing Club

Prompt: Write a short story using these words.

Gun

Photograph

Wheelchair

Soft

Slippery

Anguish

Elated

Watch

Sam sat in the wheelchair sliding his fingers over and over the smooth surface of the rifle, staring at the clock.  The silent room came to life, “Tick, tick, tock.”  The click of the muzzle followed.  The gun rose to life with a red flash, metal burrs and a sting.  Force flipping the chair back on its large wheels, horizontal to vertical, his vision danced in a whirl as he fell limp to the floor, then black.

One hand sliding through something soft and slippery, as the haze of his sore head began to lift.  Light filtered down through the PVC blinds to reveal a blurry pool of red spread across the tiles.  His glasses had disappeared in the tumble.  Lifting his head farther brought sharp pain to his back.  In anguish, he stretched forward groping for something, anything to help him roll onto his back.  A table leg brought success.  One flailing hand grazed his glasses, grabbing hold he pushed them neatly upon his nose. 

Still a bit dazed and sore, as he sat up, he could make out the word Heinz amid the mess of glass.  Neither the ketchup or mustard fared well.  The checkered tablecloth hung haphazardly over the table, mustard running down the side in a slow drip, drip, drip near his head. 

His face still stinging from its close encounter with the butt of the gun as it kicked back.  His wheelchair seemed twice as high with his aching back, but he managed to haul himself back up to sit. 

Molly would be none to happy that he had shot out the kitchen window.  He should have checked to see if it was loaded.  She hated his antique gun collection as it was and she was none to elated with his latest piece.  The old war rifle had been a steal at two thousand.  He smiled at the photograph of the two of them at the gun show.  Though she purely went for him, the broad smile didn’t let on. 

Where was she anyways?  She should have been home by now.  As he let of the brake, and rolled around the table to the screen door, he saw her lying amid the brown paper bags she had been carrying, oranges and onions scattered about the ground.