A curl of soft blue smoke

“What the hell is this?”
He already knew what the hell it was before he recognized the tracking device, a tiny red electronic eye that seemed to be glaring balefully at them from amongst the wads of cash.
“Our own don finish!” He shouted, strength suddenly draining out of his knees.” Make we move sharply!”
“Wetin?” Ambrose growled, short-tempered, irritable Ambrose, but an expression of fear was in his eyes and in the alert way he rose to his feet.
As though on cue, there was a low whistling sound and the sharp, sickening snap of bone muffled by flesh. It was the sound that would haunt his dreams for months to come and permanently damage his taste for sucking on animal bones, if he survived this.
Ambrose shrieked; shrieked a rapidly rising, piercing sound while clasping what was left of a leg cleanly severed from just below the knee.
“Let’s get out of here!” Rufus whispered fiercely, his eyes wild with terror.
Part of his mind, already half-crazed with fear, still managed to register the stupidity of that statement.
Megida was already melding into the night, running with long, loping steps.
The big stupid fool, he thought bitterly, noting how he’d dropped the only loaded Ak 47 with them and then fled.
He’d barely taken his first step – towards the weapon or maybe to flee- when high-powered flashlight beams cut directly at them. He ducked automatically and a slug – which would have emptied his skull of his brains one second later – thumped into the door of the SUV; the report came a split second later.
He already knew Ambrose was finished before the second bursts of shots came; he felt rather than saw the huge figure shudder sharply like a jolt of electricity had coursed through him.
He didn’t see him hit the coal tar, and lie still, sipping his final gasps of air; he didn’t know that the last words Ambrose’s lips struggled to form were ‘Tamuno, I’m dying.’
He couldn’t possibly have known all that because he was himself stretched out not ten metres from his fallen associate in a pool of his own blood and with a nasty bullet hole in his throat, his last thoughts of a beautiful but painfully elusive dream, like a curl of soft blue smoke escaping grasping fingers.



16 thoughts on “A curl of soft blue smoke” by Daniel Okoli C (@wendeekay)

  1. nice…is this a part of a story?

    1. Thank you… It’s meant to be part of another story but I just like how I jump right into the action :)

  2. Jump right into the action, you sure did… “, sipping his final gasps of air” hmmm… Death, sounding like my favourite brew…

    1. Your fav brew?? Death?

  3. if this is a taste of what to come, kindly unlock the chain of suspdenceyou just hang around 6ur neck

    1. lol, unfortunately this is all to this flash bit. Thanks for reading and enjoying!

  4. Nicely written.Full of life

  5. Well done, nice piece.

  6. Words thoroughly hidden in d lines! So, Rufus and Ambrose were both dying at dsame time afterall! Breath leaving its bearer!…Goodjob!

  7. Hehe, I was attracted by the title. Nice story man, full speed ahead.

  8. You’re an INFP, nice. Never met anyone with that personality type.

    1. Lol, really. I feel u

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