by Karacan
The metal gun was beautiful to behold in its deadly simplicity. The
handle was of real ivory, and there were six bullets - compressed
silver death - in its barrel.
York knew this because he loaded it himself, and there was work to do
tonight that would require heavy armament.
In the end, he used a knife.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
"Chekhov's Gun" (For Lexy)
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3 comments:
Ha!
Thanks for the dedication.
:P
I figured since I am stalking you across the net, I could as well dedicate a story to you. Especially one that doesn't take much time to write. :D
Um. Even if it has a typo. Is there any way you could rename the title to "Chekhov's Gun", Colin?
Sure thing, boss.
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