a novel by H. C. Turk
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Copyright 2011-15 H. C. Turk ~ hcturk.com
Nature Might Have Heard
Because Rod could not bear the thought of killing his father with his bare hands, he looked around for a knife to stab him in the eye. He had read about that in a gun magazine. If you have to shoot someone to save your life and are only armed with a pip-squeak .22 or .25 caliber pistol, aim for the nose or eyes, because no bone is in the way, just a bit of soft tissue between the bullet and the brain. But Rod didn't have a gun. He could find a knife in the kitchen. This used to be his home.
He ran past his seated father, who stared with calm eyes at the setting sun. He ran past his stepmother, who stood leaning against the sofa, clutching a house robe to her chest as though hiding behind it. Of pinkish-mauve silk with a fox collar, the robe was not worth the price she paid.