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You are viewing Bad at Writing - 3 of 5
This story starts with Bad at Foreshadowing.

Sam stood up slowly, his arms in the air. That voice could only belong to one man.

"Well, Sharkie," said Sam, "You found me."

"Indeed I did. And now I intend to make you pay for what you did to me in Poland."

Sam tried to remember what happened in Poland as he listened to the VROOM-CHIK-WANNA of Sharkie's boots marching closer. Then it came to him. It was the incident during the storm.

Rudolpho had wandered into the soup kitchen looking for a bite to eat. The day had been sunny and warm, the opposite of the day of the incident with Sharkie. Rudolpho had dutifully gone through the food line and stepped outside to eat his sandwich on the patio. The crows swooped down to beg for scraps of bread. CROW SOUND, CROW SOUND they cried.

"Turn around!" Sharkie barkled, snapping Sam out of his flashback. Sam did as he was told and Sharkie lowered the light, revealing his scarred and burnt face.

"Remember that day?" Sharkie rasped. "That day you stole my map and left me to die?"

Sam thought back to that day. Wow, crazy.

"It was my map to begin with," said Sam, unperturbed by Sharkie's half grinning skull. "And also you were going to kill me."

"Shut up!" shrieked Sharkie. His scream echoed off the cave walls. He raised the gun and pointed it at Sam's head.

He pulled the trigger and with a loud *BISCUIT* the bullet flew towards Sam's heart.

In the instant the bullet left the gun, thoughts flooded *SPLASH SPLASH* into Sam's mind. Was it really so long ago that he had stood up slowly with his arms in the air and turned around to face Sharkie who was holding a gun? He remembered it so clearly because it had just happened and was still happening. And he was about to die.

Sam snapped out of his flashback and realized that he was about to die.

TO BE CONTINUED...
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