His voice was loud and authoritative. Threatening.
Stevie and I hunched down on the damp grass and offered our naked legs.
The dirty old rope cut deep into our skin, as we were ruthlessly lashed together.
I noticed a fair-haired man march past, expertly spinning a gun on his middle finger.
“On your feet,” instructed the rope man.
Struggling, Stevie and I stood up as one.
“Follow Blondie.”
We hobbled over to the others.
“Ready?” shouted Blondie.
The sound of gunfire filled the air.
Like soldiers in battle, we immediately crashed to the muddy ground, despising our school’s annual three-legged race.
Published: 101 Words
