Writing to Wednesday

So I've been trying to come up with memes and I came up with a weekly writing day on Wednesdays. I only wrote this very short scene in half an hour at most, so it's not the best quality there is. It's something that I'm proud of though and I'm willing to share this. This scene is absolutely FICTION, not true at all. All characters are made up and so are the actions. I hope you enjoy it.

Pigeon Bound

“Pst”, he sounded like a broken steam pipe.

“Hmm?” I nodded my head up, but still reading my book.

“You see that over there?” he hushed.

I looked over. Andrew, an outwardly known unpleasant guy in our grade was having his face smushed on to the left wing window of our school’s library. He was short for his age and so it looked like his head was flying into the window, like a pigeon would.

I sighed,” Same old, same old. Why? Have you not seen it done before?”

Eric looked straight out the window where Andrew was and said,” No I have. It’s just this time the guy has a gun.”

My eyes widen and I intentionally didn’t look over because I wasn’t sure if he was playing a trick on me or if Eric was telling the truth. The trick wasn’t a big deal he did it all the time, but if it was real than why isn’t someone else seeing it? I looked at Eric and he was a statue now because the gun was pointed straight into Andrew’s head. I know that kid that’s pointing the gun. I know his name. I know his life. I know his wants and dreams. I know the way he thinks, and still this is what comes out of knowing someone for their whole life.

He fired.                                                                                                                          

 I shut my eyes and let the shrieks and rummaging drown my thoughts as I sat there motionless and lightheaded.

Eric looked away and rested his hand on my back drawing smooth circle to calm me down. It didn’t work.

He made me breathe deep breathes. It didn’t work.

Then he started whispering incoherent words in my ears, but I couldn’t hear. I couldn’t hear the sounds he made when he picked me up and carried me out the library. It didn’t work.

My brother was a murderer. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling. It felt like a giant earthquake was in the middle of your body and your brain was literally a rubix cube being broken apart by a toddler.

I blacked out after that.