Melt

[Christopher Grant]

At three thirty in the morning, it was eighty-five degrees.

Lela was naked, sleepless, seated in the darkness on her porch swing, sipping lemonade and fanning herself, sick of this heatwave that had lasted four days now and no end in sight.

Her body was curvy, voluptuous, the desire of many men, the envy of many women, a fact that delighted her and made her many adversaries at the same time.

The gunshot came from her left at three thirty-two, boring through her skin, skull, brain, knocking the fan out of her hand, leaving the lemonade to sit on the small table next to the swing.

A neighborhood dog barked.

The ice cubes in Lela's lemonade began to melt.

[Robert Crisman]

Well, c'mon, Christopher, what's coming next?

[Angela]

I love the last two sentences. Someone dies, everything continues. Super six.

[Michael Brown]

Complete zinger! You've caught THE moment in Lela's story. The heat and her dichotomous pulchritude explain everything. The last two sentences provide a Greek chorus, and we walk away stunned. Nice work. really nice work.

[Jenni Marie]

The last two sentences are so simple, yet they bring the whole piece together. Nice!

[Bob Clay]

Jeez Chris, you don't believe in taking prisoners do you ? This was like 10,000 volts up close .. !

[Teresa]

Wow! It rang like gunfire, just POW -- sudden. Great flash!

[Joe Gensle]

tale of the unadoring fan, yeow. well said!

[Jenny]

Yeah! What Bonnie said.

[Bonnie]

And of course, we want and need to know more.. Excellent 6!