Time's up

Within a small cottage there lay an old lady. The weight of her years bore down upon her; you would not be able to recognize any semblance of who she once was. Connected to her arms were an assortment of machines.

A handsome young man stood in the corner of the room. He held a revolver in his left hand, and was shaking so much he might have dropped it at any moment. He tried to collect himself, and scuttled over to the end of her bed.

“Please, make it quick. I…I just can’t stand the pain.”

The young man hesitantly pointed the revolver towards the woman’s face.

“W-What if I can’t do it? I don’t want to kill you.”


His grip became loose. He willed himself to pull the trigger, yet his body would not move. A sense of dread came over him as the old lady began to convulse, writhing in agony.

“Hurry! Please, make it stop!”

The young man used all of his willpower to force himself to move. He pulled the trigger, yet only a dull click was produced as nothing happened.

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