Because I’m keeping this going. This was published late last year, in Qwerty. It was also the last piece of fiction I wrote (& completed, polished, and subbed). Starting at the end.
She raced out of her front yard and into yours. She knocked at your window and you joined her on the porch. She’d brought everything you requested, and it was nearly sunset. You ran through the open fields to the school yard, stopping under the old ash tree, not yet eaten up by the Asian long horned beetle.
You bowed your head, watching as they marched about wildly.
“I don’t know about this,” she started, but you had no time for her conscience.
You did it.
“He’s dead,” you said, as you removed your hand.
Read more HERE!😀