It was a dark and stormy night as I sit on this image board, idly browsing in search of tits and attention. A shot rings out from down the street and I startle, alarmed that something disturbed my music.
I brush aside the curtains after rising and peek out. A man is running along the asphalt while holding a Remington 870 12ga. My eyebrow raises, confused at this. I stand looking at where he had run to for a few minutes, perplexed and worried. A criminal perhaps?
Again I start as a clattering crash comes from my backyard. Adrenaline spikes as I direct my gaze to the back door. Quietly I walk to my bedroom and pick the 9mm up from my nightstand, loaded and ready.
More soft and slow steps to the rear windows as I raise my arm to pull away the curtain and look into my backyard.
I draw them aside a sliver and peak through, seeing a crashed fence and a bleeding woman on my lawn. She lies there unmoving with buckshot peppered through her rib cage.
Internal debate runs through my head on if I should help her or not. I pull my phone from my pocket and dial the police.
The line is busy, and from nextdoor I hear the neighbor lady scream.
Drawing the curtains aside once more I see that the shotgun blasted woman is no longer there.
Vanished.
I wait, and check my pistol.
