Friday Fictioneers Entry for the Week.
copyright – Bjorn Rudberg
Jonathon walked slowly up the pass. He came to a bend and saw the sign.
“Why would I put my hand out like that?” He smiled and kept walking.
Upon coming round the bend, he saw the old man with the shotgun pointing at his head.
His hand went up, exactly like the sign.
The gun blast echoed around the mountains.
The old codger spit green onto the dirt path and grumbled mightily.
“Dern feriners cant foller signs even wit a drawin.”
He sighed, rolled the body off the mountain and sat back on the gold waiting for his brother.
Word Count: 100 words
Namaste,
Scott
This was my first official one of the week. If you want to see my favorite (written too late) –> Here
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