A Sprinkle of Rage

Two sisters are crouched in a three by three space, attempting to suppress their hyper-ventalatized breath; not wanting to address their present fear. Twenty feet and two doors separate them from a man with a gun.

A man whose, out of control, deep and threatening voice, is screaming. “I’m going to kill them!” “I’m going to kill them!”

With the sound of the shotgun being engaged——chk-chk—–the undeniable sound of the pump moving the shell into the chamber, the flow of urine sounded as loud as a kitchen faucet amplified by a Twin Marshall Stack.

Luckily, it didn’t give away their hiding place.

The stomps of rage thundered away.

They were safe – once again, or were they?

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