Copyright –Douglas M. MacIlroy
Nightmare (100 words)
“Let’s move to the country,” she’d said. They’d bought a colt and a dappled filly – hard to break. “I’m calling her Nightmare,” she’d smiled.
Then a pair of silver Purdeys, and they’d learned to shoot. Hours spent picking shot from their game.
They’d rode hard, she fearless, streaking through the woods, him trailing behind.
Not any more.
He’d buried her broken body with her Purdey.
He watched Nightmare trot towards the car.
They’d shared a spirit those two he thought, getting out and loading a shell.
He raised his gun.