20080206

With Friends Like These...

by Libby Sumner

My body ached and my mind struggled to piece together why I was in the middle of a stall filled with musty hay when I heard a groan I usually associated with B rated horror flicks somewhere nearby. It all fell back into place as I scrambled to get my beaten body up off of the floor and, most importantly, find my damn rifle. I looked up to see it hanging by the shoulder strap where I'd fallen through the loft floor so I jumped for it only to lose my grip and go crashing to the floor of the stall again. At that moment a face appeared over the edge of the stall and I sighed in relief as I realized it was Adam's. Just as I relaxed, knowing he was taller and would be able to reach the rifle, I noticed the ragged hole in his abdomen that looked as though someone had reached in and grabbed whatever they could hold onto and ripped outwards. Shit�

6S

Libby Sumner, author of Tenderhearted, adores and admires Adam J. Whitlatch. She lives on a farm in rural Tennessee with a plethora of animals (and her husband). She's written roughly half a dozen unfinished novels ranging from sci-fi to smutty romance. (She hopes to finish at least one of them some day.)

5 comments:

Adam J. Whitlatch said...

I'm coming to get you, Barbar-- I mean, Libby! :D

Absolutely chilling. Love it. More. More! MORE!!

Blurry said...

Hey Libby! Loved this 6S, great job!

Jessie said...

That's an awesom "oh shit" moment. Damn those big, dead, hungary husbands anyways!!

Baby Island said...

Oh I liiiiike this one! More please!

Libby said...

Thanks very much! I loved writing this one :)