21 Shots Book Novels & Stories

There’s a split second where everything stills — the weight of it in my hands, the faint chemical smell of paint, the quiet hum of anticipation in the room. Then I pull the trigger. Pop. The first shot hits. A wet splat of black against fabric. Ilkay’s muscles move. He doesn’t make a sound. Oh, we’re doing it like that? Fine. I pull the trigger again. And again. And again. Ten shots. Two per idiot. Each hit lands with a sharp crack and a burst of dark paint, blooming across their backs like violent ink stains. Their muscles flinch every time — small, involuntary betrayals — but not one of them breaks.

In the rearview mirror, I could see them still filming. My arm was still bleeding, staining the steering wheel red. My phone started buzzing nonstop. Social media notifications flooded the screen: "SHOCKING! Former Silvermoon Luna Kicked to the Curb!" "LIVE FEED: The Most Tragic Rejected Mate Ever!" "EXCLUSIVE VIDEO: You Won't BELIEVE What Wreck She Drove Away In!" I turned off my phone and focused on the road. It started to rain, pattering against the windshield. The wipers were broken. I could barely see.

I stood and pulled out the gun, which was at my waist, and loaded it in front of Vivian. "Lay a finger on you? That's a waste of my time!" I suddenly raised my hand. This caused her to scream and squat down with her hands on her head. What she thought was the end wasn't. My gun wasn't aimed at her; it was aimed at the wine cabinet behind her. The next second, there was a loud bang. The sound of glasses shattering echoed in the room. The flying shards had even cut Vivian's waist, leaving a deep blood trail.

"Well, how about I kill both of them, and we can start all over." "No!" Liam screamed. I took the initiative and bite Devin's arm hard and stomped on his shoe as he screamed in pain, letting me go. "You fucking bitch!" I ran towards Liam and heard a shot fired. Liam's eyes widen like mine. I slow pace. Besides the pain in my womb, I also felt something itchy, something burning on the back of my right shoulder. "Boss! Let's go!" I heard from the lackey as soon I fell into Liam's arms. I saw Devin smiling and his eyes bugling when the lackey pulled him away before the sound of sirens closed in.

========================== Jayden and Emilie are exploring the other game stalls at the festival, when they suddenly heard excited voices, just a few walks away. "I wonder what's going on there?" Emilie wondered aloud. "Let's go there and find out." said Jayden. Once they were able to get closer to that stall, they saw many people who are cheering happily. As they squeeze themselves through the crowd, they saw one guy who was holding a toy gun and he was aiming it towards the lined target. The people are cheering for him. The guy tried shooting the targets, but he's not successful. After a few more tries, he finally gave up.

A relentless volley of bullets whizzes past Luca, narrowly missing him as he instinctively crouches low, his heart pounding in rhythm with the chaos around us. "Cover his twelve," I shout, my voice slicing through the chaos, as I take aim at the men standing just beyond the cover of the door. With a steady hand, I squeeze the trigger, and the gun barks in response, a harsh echo in the air. My bullets find their victim, striking two squarely in their head, their bodies collapsing like puppets who've lost their strings. Seven shots ring out in quick succession, each reverberating alongside the pump of my heart just before silence stretches.

By the time he got to the topmost floor, he was totally exhausted and was dripping with sweat like someone who had just had a shower. Without bothering to observe the the storey meant to home him for the next an hour, professor Ericson pulled his bag behind him and walked to the last room, and knocked on the door. A second later, the door flung open showing a student with a lot of tattoos. He had managed to smuggle them into the school. It wasn't Wilkes Milton. Definitely not.

Part One: Body Check Matt Vorchak finished cleaning out the rest of the stuff from his locker and zipped up the duffel he'd brought with him. Then he sat on the bench for a long minute just looking around. A combination of exhilaration, sadness and rage bubbled inside him. The excitement of winning The Cup didn't completely soften the fact that this was probably the last time he'd be doing this, and it was a bitter pill to swallow. He'd given his life to the game, in more ways than one, and he had been struck with a single purpose in life. But Fate had apparently decided he'd had too much fun and given him the finger big time.

Exhaustion is taking over, and I am having trouble keeping my eyes open. Right before my eyes close, the last thing I see is Braxius's blue-green eyes filled with love and sorrow. Except, I somehow know everything will be all right with him. That only thought is making my leaving easier, and I stop fighting the darkness. I am floating away towards total oblivion. I am having a few brief flashbacks of my short life of twenty-two years and growing up in New Jersey with Meena, my younger sister of nine months. I accepted my entry-level position at a prestigious marketing firm and graduating from college with honors as a business major with a minor in history.

Am I going to die? "Seems as though you find the bookshelf to be a world full of chocolates and cakes, no?" His voice continued, sinister. I turned around, blanketing my nervousness and caution towards him. He took a step towards me and I felt myself shift back. I was scared and I couldn't deny that. Somehow, I could tell he knew I saw the gun, his eyes seemed even darker. "S-" I couldn't get my words together, even my nerves weren't working at this point.