Sunday 2 June 2019

Gun in My hand

by Hannah Retallick
a bottle of something
The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the gun in my hand. Weapon of mass destruction more like – well, it destroyed me anyway. Or was that the bottle hovering near my other hand? No matter.
Gawsh, that ceiling’s a mess. Cracks and webs and peeling paint, that’s great, just great – ‘her majesty’ will go ape. And it’s all on me, of course, because I’m No-Job Janet.
            I will get off the floor now.
            I will get off the floor now in a minute.
            Seriously, though, what is this crap all about? I say leave it as it is and then it can’t get any worse. Simple as. You know what she’s like, though, said Steve, before he fled to work this morning. Yes, I flippin’ well do, my love. She’s as pig-headed and anal as her precious son. It’s dust, Shirley, get a life! And you can sort your own ceiling, Steve!
            Well, that took a bitter turn.
            She’ll be here any minute and all I want to do is sleep. I hold the gun above my head, pointing it upwards. I tease the trigger with my index finger, gently, daring it to fire. Liquid squirts out and rains down on my face. You’re a demon, Dettol!

About the author

Hannah Retallick is a twenty-five-year-old from Anglesey, North Wales. She was home educated and then studied with the Open University, graduating with a First-class honours degree, BA in Humanities with Creative Writing and Music, and is studying for an MA in Creative Writing. She is working on her second novel and writes short stories and a blog. She was shortlisted in the Writing Awards at the Scottish Mental Health Arts Festival 2019 and in the Cambridge Short Story Prize.

1 comment:

  1. Great story! Love it. Really captures voice and character, a lesson in how to write flash! Well done x