The White Revolver (R word essays)

“Only a few meters away… The revolver must still have a round in the chamber”

He dragged himself across the cold white marble that grew a sickening shade of red as the hallways’ occupants bled out. His sticky fingers irritated him. He drummed them against the floor as he caught his breath. Funny how he still felt excited, like adrenaline made him invincible, like he was still in control. If only he could get up.

“No. That’s not it. I’ll just need the gun, he’ll be back and he won’t be ready,”

The revolver was an old thing. Primitive; a remnant from naive days. His coat looked like one he used to wear back then. He’d picked it up last week on a whim. Maybe it could have been a return to the glory days. It seemed a bit hilarious to start reminiscing at that moment.

“Must be the blood loss. Where’s the bloody revolver anyway? Might take me forever to find it in all the blood,”

It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. It was supposed to be easy. But he was uneasy the second they’d walked through the revolving doors. All that planning was for nothing. What a time for revelations! The cities best law enforcers would never be suspected of staging a robbery. It had taken them forever to gather up fall guys, but those were worries from a time when he had more things to worry about.

Four shots rang out and a gun clattered as it hit the floor.

Everything went wrong when they choose their first collateral for the day. They’d have more glory and authority if a few clerks and tellers hit the floor. Four shots rang out and a gun clattered as it hit the floor. The first victim didn’t fall. He grasped at his head and gargled black foam, one that seemed to drip from the hole in his head too. His face threatened to pull into his ears drums and he groaned like a falling tree. His arms tore themselves apart and seemed to extend into a hundred antennas. Before anyone said anything, one antennas flew across the room and whipped him. It cut halfway through him and he fell over, mouth agape. He looked like he was trying to understand why he’d turned into butter.

He didn’t die. He wished he had; he wished he hadn’t seen everything else that happened. One by one, the thing hunted down everyone in the bank. Everyone who had seen, everyone who…

The doors spun open.

“Well… Hello there,”

“Too late” he thought to himself.

He didn’t take his eyes off the ornate handle

Upturned now and against the wall, he turned and spotted his revolver. It’s ivory white handle unstained out just out of reach. He didn’t take his eyes off the ornate handle even as a crack filled the room and his ears rang with the sound that be his end.

This is a part of the word essay challenge.

Prompt words- revolver, round, revelation, remnant, reminiscing.  

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