Pulp Fiction Trunk Shot Novels & Stories

She pulled the trigger and I shut my eyes tightly. I was waiting for the unbearable pain but it never came. I opened my eyes and found Hendrick Black between me and the pointed gun. He turned to look at me and that was when I saw blood pooling out of the fresh wound in his chest. He fell on the ground with a loud thud with his eyes locked with mine. I looked up at Christy who tried to pull the trigger again but Chris grabbed her arm and slapped her hard on her face. She fell on the ground and Chris kicked the gun she was holding.

she screamed at Leo, her fingers clawing at his chest. Leo shook his head weakly, still trying to deny the truth. His voice cracked. “I… I didn’t… I didn’t…” Frank didn’t hesitate. He raised his gun, squeezing the trigger with precision born of years of pain and vengeance. The shot rang out, echoing in the high-ceilinged warehouse, and Leo staggered, his body colliding with the crates behind him. He fell to the ground, groaning, life slowly draining from him.

Your sole avenue of spiritual survival lies with a man you tried to kill mere moments ago. "This is insane," Troika shouted and came at me. The room exploded with the sonic resonance of a pistol firing. I may have imagined it, but it appeared the bullet took Troika at the juncture of the right eyebrow, nose ridge and right eye. Whatever the entry point, the .45 ACP slug painted the wall behind her with her grey matter. St. Marie turned quickly on Fatima.

The two men continued their face-off in silence with a hot intense stare at each other. Scarface didn't act as if he hard the other guy and without making obvious his intent moved his fingers on the trigger catching Fool off guard when the bullet from his gun caught him on the right shoulder. " Fuck! you son of a bitch!!! " Fool cried out letting out successive shots at Scarface which he was quick to dive out of the way, taking cover behind one of the cars parked in the underground parking lot.

Trying to be so mighty, not wanting to crumble in front of him because of the fact that he just spitted like it is the most obvious thing in the world. "What kind of tragedy?" That is what I want to know. "It looks like it was scrapped. There's a scar that came from a bullet. Series of scars coming from a whip. I can tell, Exiquel. So just go on and tell me what I want to know. You know what I want to know, don't you? Then start talking." "Yeah," He said. "It was scrapped with a rusty knife then hit by a whip for a couple of times while bleeding. They still aid it of course. A day after, I was shot in the back. The bullet penetrating my flesh felt hot as hell."

It was Tristan, his eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and determination. The gunshot rang out, and I watched in horror as Tristan’s body jerked forward, a crimson color staining his chest. The deafening sound of the gunshot was replaced by a sickening thud as Tristan’s body collided with mine. Pain radiated through my abdomen as I stumbled back, Tristan’s blood staining my clothes. He collapsed to the ground, a look of sheer determination etched on his face.

Juan pressed the gun to the victim’s right thigh. “Right or left?” Juan asked as if it mattered to him. The beggar was still in shock. He took too long to answer. “How about the middle?” Juan added. The beggar tried to wrap his head around it. Juan aimed the gun at the old man’s genitals and pulled the trigger. A thunderous noise echoed in the room followed by the resumption of the breathless screams. The shot bore a hole through the chair. Pieces of flesh fell on the ground. Juan didn't wait for the screams to weaken and aimed the gun at his abdomen.

Before he could finish the sentence, I shoved the barrel of my gun into his open mouth and pulled the trigger, silencing him forever. I stood up, his blood splattered across my suit. River, my right-hand man, walked over and offered me a clean handkerchief. I took it, wiping the disgusting blood from my face and hands before throwing the stained fabric onto the corpse. I kicked his lifeless leg away, turned to River, and pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and inhaled, letting the nicotine rush into my bloodstream.

I screamed, charging toward Amon's men. The glass cut through the air drawing a savage red line across one of his men's throats. Blood poured out, and his eyes instantly rolled in the back of his head. I was sure he was dead, but I wasn't leaving anything to chance. I raced toward him and plunged the glass into the man's heart. I screamed with bloodthirsty eyes as I ripped the man's heart out with my bare hands and bit into it. Viktor had one of Amon's men pinned to the floor and jabbed the stake in his heart. Then, he looked up at me with a giant smirk.

My smile slowly disappears while looking at my brother lying on the cold floor lifeless. I froze in place and upon lifting my head I saw a man walking towards me holding a gun. As a clueless child I slowly reached for the gun that I hide on my back then pointed it at the man and without even thinking I pulled the trigger. The bullet went through his head and he fell on the floor like what happened to Ethan. I didn't feel any guilt and all I felt was satisfaction. I coldly walked towards the man and looked at his face intently. I saw a tattoo on his neck it's a scorpion.