She had looked up in time to spy a figure emerge from the thick bramble of thicket surrounding the graveyard. He had made a stealthy approach toward her. Past the curtain of foggy grey, she had noticed that he wore a tattered coat slung over a pair of trousers and a wool scarf concealing his identity. Twin glinting Ruger SR1991 handguns were grasped with each hand. They were locked and loaded aiming directly at her.

short story

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