The jetty had rotten clean through in places, creating a hopscotch of holes almost impossible to see in the dark.
Gritting her teeth, Emile slid one foot in front of the other and eased her weight onto it. At the end of the jetty a light flickered and went off.
She paused and steadied her breath.
Patience, she reminded herself. She’d waited fifteen years, she could afford fifteen minutes to get across this dock unscathed.
She ran a hand across the outline of the pistol inside her jacket.
Fifteen minutes, she promised herself.
That’s all she needed.
PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz
Oh dear… Someone done her wrong!
Indeed.
The tension here is nail-biting! I could feel her desperation. Great story.
Thank you Jenny, I’m glad I’ve managed to build that much tension.
Can’t help but will her to succeed – I hope they deserve it, whoever it is she’s going for!
In my head they do.
She’s a woman on a mission, would love to know why. Nice tense writing.
Thank you Jilly. I have a few theories brewing but I’ve not quite set on one yet.
Great tension here
Thank you.
Women and guns a dangerous combination indeed.
Excellent.
So much unsaid, lets the reader think.
“A hopscotch of holes” is a lovely phrase, and really sets a mood; remember concentrating fiercely on completing the game, with its need for both physical and mental co-ordination? You’ve written a tense story, where the need for care slows progress to the denouement. I do have a niggle, though. The jetty is rotten and holed. If I were crossing that surface – especially if I didn’t want to be detected – I would be moving cautiously on all fours.
I like “hopscotch of hole.” Do kids still play hopscotch?
Excellent tension in this story. Well done.