The Bullet That Missed Novels & Stories

Frank showed her the bullet, which was the size of an entire finger, leaving her heart pounding. If Frank was not powerful enough to catch bullets, she would be dead! "Thank you so much…" She heaved. "That would have torn me in half if not for you." Frank nodded. "You're right about that. This bullet is used for anti-material rifles—even a car would blow up from that!" He then turned to Jada and the Ghostly Six, ordering them to protect Myra and Janice before leaping out of the window, crashing through the glance. The black-clad man on a distant rooftop was furious to see that his bullet had missed. Convinced that Frank was just lucky to catch it, he stayed and took aim again, firing at Fran

Seff held in his laughter as his hand rested on my shoulder. "You only have four tries left. Are you sure you can hit three? you know, you can always rely on me at times like these." "Shut up!" I hissed. Something's definitely wrong. I have never failed in projecting a perfect aim no matter what weapon I use, the trajectory of the pellet should be the same as a real bullet, so why did it miss when I shot in such a perfect stance? There's just no way... Maybe my hand moved a little because of the wind, I thought.

KATERINA She missed. Whitney missed the shot by one tiny inch and just as she aimed to shoot the second time, a stick slammed into her head from the back. The gun dropped from her hand and fell with a clatter to the ground. I saw the moment that the blood started to drip down from the side of her head and her eyes drooped almost shut.

Somehow, even in my unconsciousness, I had known the truth but I still wanted to hear it loud and clear “He is really gone, isn’t he?” Adrian looked away from Harper and looked at me. “He is,” He said, confirming any doubts I had and I closed my eyes. I already knew. But hearing it made it final. “The bullet was laced with lead, and it was aimed directly at his heart, but it missed slightly. We would have been able to do something if the bullet hadn't been laced with lead. It killed him faster,” he said, and I opened my eyes.

My grip tightened on the gun as I squared my shoulders and prepared to fire again. Bang! Two in a row. My heart swelled with cautious pride and determination. But on the third attempt— Bang! The bullet landed just outside the bull’s-eye, and my hope deflated like a popped balloon. My chest tightened as frustration surged again. I set the gun down, leaning against the table as I tried to catch my breath. My body screamed for rest, my arms felt like lead, and my legs wobbled beneath me. But I refused to give up. I lost track of how many times I raised the gun, fired, and missed. The hours blurred into a haze of exhaustion and disappointment. Each miss chipped away at my resolve, but I kept goi

Not healing. That bullet must have been made of silver. Someone had just tried to kill me.

RAYMOND I hadn't realized how many steps the hospital had until I walked them back and forth until my soles ached. Waiting rooms blurred into one another—sterile plastic chairs, vending machines humming, faces too tired to ask the right questions. I paced until the carpet threadbare under my shoes felt like a map to nowhere. When the doctor finally emerged, his expression was careful in that professional way that tries not to terrify you while containing dread. “Mr. Orlando?” he began, as if I might snap. “We’ve stabilized her. The bullet passed through the soft tissue of the upper arm and—thank God—missed the artery and bone. There’s no permanent physical damage from the gunshot itself.”

Raised the gun and fired in the same motion. The bullet punched through glass. The vial shattered midair, and holy water erupted in a fine mist between us. He had no choice but to move. I aimed past the mist and pulled the trigger. A click. No round. A feint. He vanished. Reappeared four meters to the right, clear of the water. Exactly where I'd expected. I fired for real. He twisted sideways. Almost fast enough. The silver bullet grazed the outside of his right shoulder, tearing through fabric and skin.

My aim wavered but I'm pretty sure I can hit Eric precisely where he won't be able to move. “I don’t want to,” he said, his voice breaking. “But I don’t have a choice.” For a moment, it felt like there was still a chance, like he might lower his weapon and this nightmare could end without bloodshed. But then a sharp, searing pain shot through my arm as a stray bullet grazed me, throwing off my aim. Accidentally, I fired a bullet when I clenched my hands due to the pain from another stray bullet. The shot I fired struck Eric square in the forehead.

If he'll not open his mouth in the next 5 min then I'm in and I'll take control over. "Fine.Seems like he doesn't love you woman. I want her to be awake and Junaibar watch as she does painfully." And with that, her men dumped a bucket of hot steamy water over the Junaibar's bitch. The blood mixed with water flowed like a red shower. Soon the bitch started sobbing hard trying to reach out to her lover. Still no response. Sighing, she fired at the lady's left leg and started pouring hot water down onto the bullet wound slicing it with just hot drizzling water. Merciless.