Groundswell: Chapter eight

Patrick Walts: the short fiction collection

Chapter 7

Clancy always knew they’d come for him one day. He knew too much. He’d spent the majority of his life looking over his shoulder, and though he now often spent it looking out of a window, he knew he couldn’t hide from them forever.

He couldn’t exactly remember who “they” were, and the details of what he knew were fuzzy and jumbled, but the fear was real–and ever-present–even when he couldn’t remember why he was afraid in the first place.

“Hey Clance. What’s shakin’?”

That voicefamiliar. A friend? Yes, a friend. But who? From when? Izzat Tommy Cornwell? No. Now wait a minute…what was I–

“Y’hear me in there, Clance? I asked you what’s shakin’. Y’hear me? Oughta get that pretty little gal that wipes your ass to turn your dang hearing aid up.”

All the pieces clicked together, for just a few moments, and…

View original post 644 more words

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s