“What did you come in for?” he asked me as he sat there looking down.
“I just came in for a drink and a magazine,” I said, feeling very scared, turning my head in anticipation of any punches that would rain down.
I started struggling as he began patting me down, feeling around for a weapon. He reached to my belt under my back, and pulled out my gun from underneath me. He pulled down my scarf and took off my hat.
“Yes! I saw you on the news!” he said. “I will have to keep you here while I call the police. Or…” he thought for a moment, “or I could do something else. Do you even think you would go to jail for very long if the police came?”
I was still struggling, but could barely move. He had me in some kind of vice-grip with his legs.
“Don’t know,” I said, not really thinking about it.
“Hmmm,” he said as he held up my gun to his face, inspecting the weapon. He seemed to inspect it for a moment. “You’d go to jail for a bit, then just come out again and go back to robbing again, wouldn’t you?”
I really couldn’t believe how little room I had to squirm out from beneath him
“I’m afraid you guys cause me great trouble in my shop,” he said. “You cause other people trouble in their shops, too. You see that field behind my shop?” He pointed with the gun out towards the yellowish greenery that was reflecting the lights of the petrol station into my eyes.
I nodded, with a dry throat.
“I don’t use it at the moment, I was thinking of selling it off. But I just had an idea…” he was looking over to it, and I could see his eyes getting brighter in his face illumined by the lights. “I could use it as a burial ground, except without any tombstones. It could be anonymous, looking like a normal field, but with dead bodes underneath it…”
He looked at me.
“I really am fed up with robbers. With no one around I’m quite an easy target…but I could change things for us shopkeepers. I could be like bait, attracting all the vermin to my place, where I can kill them and put them away from anyone else. Like a permanent jail.”
A huge smile then emerged on his face, and his teeth looked brown and jagged.
“Yes, that’s a great idea, no one would ever know!” he declared as he looked around at the miles of vacant countryside around him.
He looked down at me and placed the tip of my gun directly over my heart. Then he leaned on it, so it pressed in to me.
“Hahaha!” he laughed, “Brilliant!”
I’m sure I felt the bullet enter into my heart after that, but in fact, all that I heard was the beautiful noise, the heavenly sound, of an empty click of the trigger.
I had not filled my gun with bullets either. It was a safety precaution, plus I never thought I would be able to bear the weight of murder on my soul. Even shooting someone in the leg made my bones feel sick.
The shopkeeper’s face screwed up into a rage and he raised the weapon high as if about to strike me with it. In his anger, he slightly lost his balance, I felt his weight shift on to my right side, and I thrust my left hip upwards so that he toppled over. I sprang into my car as he made a grab at my leg, and even though he got my shoe, I made it into the car, put it in gear and with the door still open, sped off into the night. I heard my own shoe clatter on to my roof as the shopkeeper threw it at me in frustration, and even though it was my most favourite shoe, I kept on driving into the darkness, with my heart rate at an all time high.
Thanks for reading. What did you think?