My brother decided to take matters into his own hands. He crouched in the shadows of our backyard with a shotgun packed with rock salt. A prowler had previously invaded our home and left our nights anxiously sleepless. He had left dirt-outlined footprints that lead from the open kitchen door into our living room.
Presently, our guy appeared. Rusty took aim, missed, and hit our backdoor leaving a splintered hole. Prowler took off running followed close behind by my brother. On this day without a date, on a backstreet, dusky, a scream was heard as my brother zeroed in and met his mark in the guy’s buttocks!
In hysterics, Prowler approached a neighbor saying that a madman had tried to kill him. As my brother caught up to them, he explained the situation, and the man was detained by them both for the authorities.
Join us at dVerse Poets Pub as we write Prosery with Lisa hosting.