My Grama was an Eastern Star back in the day. She was and still is down the for the cause. I never understood why my grandfather (being 6’5) let such a little woman boss him around. That is until I got into a beef with some guys around the waw.They came to her house to look for me only to find the butt of her colt 45. She pistol whipped the one whom I thought had been the toughest guy in town until then.
I knew she’d be down to ride but I had to do this one alone. Too much going on in mind to share my revenge. I needed to feel it. See it. The heavy breathing and pounding beat of my heart.The gun, kicking back in my palms, bullets, tearing through flesh so fast it changes the color of the room. Blood, flowing like a river of ink, and him, trying to hold in his intestines with his shaking hands.
Each day I grew more passionate about the sight of him dying.