“He sat ramrod straight, even though he had no clue what a ramrod was. The muzzle of the gun accused him, unwavering. A chill–a shiver ran up his spine like a spider searching for an anchor point for its web. ‘What do you want?’ His voice came out in a pant. His mind refused to plot. Multicolored lights flashed through his mind, and if this were a cartoon, a crown of stars would have circled over his head. His head rang hollow, like a bell, from the impact of the pistol. ‘You know what we want. Where did you hide it?’ ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ He shook his head to clear it. It didn’t help. In fact, it just made the bell ring louder. The gun wavered menacing in front of his swimming eyesight. The husky man with the furry coat growled. ‘Don’t give me that. What did you do with the plan?’ ‘What pl–“ His question was cut short by another slap across his already bruised cheekbone. ‘Alright! Alright!’ He spit out a blood-covered incisor. ‘I’ll tell you.’ He paused. ‘You’re going to kill me anyway, aren’t you?’ ‘You got that straight. What did you do with the plan?’ ‘In that case I have nothing to lose by telling you. I threw it away.’”
#writing #throwawayline