Cornered
There was nowhere left to run. The overgrown path ended at a bed of reeds stretching out into a lake. Either side was thick undergrowth. He glanced back the way he had come, bloodied hands on knees, sucking in air. A dog barked, joined by another. He waded out into the freezing, dark water. Behind him raised voices, becoming excited, torch lights dancing. The sound of a cartridge being jacked into place. He dived under the surface, tangling in reeds, finding it impossible to swim; holding his breath, lungs fit to burst. Rising, gasping, praying. Dogs whining, pacing the shore.
My posts this week
Review of Operation Napoleon by Arnaldur Indridason
Why focusing on the overhang at the expense of oversupply is a folly
Opening lines
Short story: Death of Me (Ramones)
It wasn't me ...
Review of Halo in Blood by John Evans/Howard Browne
An Bord Pleanala call for a renewal of the planning system
Flash story - literally
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