The River
A Short Story
by cw

Zach Long looked at the sharp gun in his hands and felt anger.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his water surroundings. He had always loved The River with its rough, rich river. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel something other than anger.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Annie Johnson. Annie was a red headed with sinking tone like a dead corps and skinny hands.

Zach gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a bold, intelligent, water drinker with tall arm and lean hands. His friends saw him as a mighty, magnificent muscular. Once, he had even saved a mid aged ladey that was stuck in a drain.

But not even a person who had once saved a mid aged ladey that was stuck in a drain, was prepared for what Annie had in store today.

The sun felt warm and cozy place, making Zach warm and relaxed inside.

As Zach stepped outside and Annie came closer, he could see the angery glint in her eye.

"I am here because I want money," Annie bellowed, in a stubborn tone. She slammed her fist against Zach's chest, with the force of 3403 fox. "I frigging hate you, Zach Long."

Zach looked back, beginning to feel angrey and still fingering the sharp gun. "Annie, your a gold digger," he replied.

They looked at each other with sad feelings, like two people, atinding a very gloomy funeral, which had jazz music playing in the background and two crows flying.

Suddenly, Annie lunged forward and tried to punch Zach in the face. Quickly, Zach grabbed the sharp gun and brought it down on Annie's skull.

Annie's arm trembled and her skinny hands wobbled. She looked hurt, her body raw like a corps .

Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Annie Johnson was dead.

Zach Long went back inside and made himself a nice drink of water.

THE END
© C.W