Pulp Fiction Trunk Shot Novels & Stories

Reuben thought darkly, “then the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.” The old man still refused to sit, standing tall, his face stern. “Sit down,” Reuben repeated, but the old man didn’t move. His stubbornness was clear. He was daring Reuben. Reuben’s lips tightened into a thin line. Without another word, he pulled the trigger. BANG! The bullet went straight through the old man’s throat. Blood splattered on the wooden floor. The old man fell backward with a dull thud, his eyes wide open, frozen in shock.

His eyes shone crimson as he licked his blood strained lips. "This". He held the glass. Leaning back into Stephen’s chest sniffing his neck. It soothed him. Relaxed him. "Good one Callum . It’s a deer. You sure you want this"? Saint reconfirmed. Callum nodded a yes and the next moment they all gasped when Saint took all shots bottom up. "Yumm". They all laughed looking at him enjoying the treat. "Someone taking lessons. Wow. It’s not so you Stephen". Suddenly the door opened to Zol and they all were shocked.

The wet thud of the bullet hitting flesh was louder than the shot itself. Lucian’s body jerked. A spray of hot, metallic fluid hit Phineas’s cheek. Lucian didn't groan. He didn't fall. He just tightened his grip on Phineas, his head bowing, his breath coming in a sudden, sharp hiss. "Lucian?" Phineas’s voice was a thin, threadbare whisper. Xavier didn't hesitate. He fired three times. Clement went down in a heap of gray rags, his chest blooming red before he even hit the ground.

Marcus had single handedly orchestrated the emotional slaughter of his best friend for a massive paycheck. Without a single flicker of warning or hesitation, Sebastian swung his arm upward. He brought the heavy, solid metal grip of the nine millimeter handgun violently across the side of Marcus’s temple. The impact was brutal, precise, and absolute. Marcus’s head snapped violently sideways. His eyes rolled back into his skull as he instantly slumped forward in the restraints, completely unconscious. The dark blood from his gunshot wound continued to drip steadily onto the concrete floor. Sebastian calmly tucked the weapon back into his hidden shoulder holster. He turned around, walking back

Crunch. That must have been the final straw for Dad. He went to the study – scene of his particular shameful crime – and readied one of the antique weapons our Hollister ancestors had used in the hunt. He shot Aunt Paula first, then Mindy, and finally ate the barrel and blew his brains out. Good thing I had the alibi of having been on a train when it happened. Good thing none of them left a note. And a very good thing that the survivors aren't able to talk about what went on there at Pinewood those last few days.

Nico suddenly pulls us to an abrupt halt, and I hope out of the car almost immediately. Nico does the same, leaning his head over the long pistol he has in hand. With both of us on either side of the vehicle, standing at only a few distance away from the camry that collided with a tree, we stay alert. The doors of the green car swing open and as expected, four thugs flew out, scarred looking faces guns in hand as well. I turn to Nico, he nods subtly, taking the hint. We start shooting immediately, the bullets slamming into the trunk of their car.

“Just like I always do.” Cross shrugs. “I gave you time to see the truth, but you're too damned stupid. Just like Ralph.” The first gunshot rings out, and for a split second, I don’t know where it came from. Then Antonio grunts, stumbling back as blood blooms across his shoulder. Everything explodes as his men return fire. “Down!” Trent shouts. I fire without thinking. My gun bucks in my hand. One man goes down and another stumble back from me as the air fills with shouting and muzzle flashes.

Big Bob said as he opened the trunk of the patrol car. He began to dig around and pulled out a handheld spotlight. He closed the trunk and walked toward the front of the car. He opened the driver’s door and reached in, pulling out the shotgun located between the front seats. He checked to make sure it was loaded with what he hoped would be the correct rounds. “I hope we don’t need this. Maybe we will be lucky, and Ms. Parks just ate the wrong wild mushrooms, and it was all just a hallucination,” Big Bob said as he closed the car door.

"Ha..." Tristan suddenly laughed, his cold voice echoing through the walls. "Well, I've got no reason to keep you alive then." Like a blur, he suddenly pulled out the gun plugged to his belt and pulled the trigger. The bullet pierced through the man's forehead, and his corpse fell to the ground, blood splashing all over the place. Tristan reached out to wipe the blood that had splashed on his shirt with distaste. Then, he gazed at the man's corpse, which now lay on the ground, unmoving, his widened eyes a testament that he wasn't prepared for it.

The room stills when I walk in. Except him. Bones keeps going, oblivious, thrusting like it's his last ride. The girl's moaning, screaming his name. I draw my gun. When Bones roars with release, the first bullet rips through the back of his skull. The second tears through his neck. The third sprays what's left of his brains against the wall behind the bar in a thick, wet arc. His body collapses onto the whore. She screams, scrambling back like she thinks she can outrun the blood.