Drawing his Colt, Boland pulled back the hammer with a ratcheting click and fired three shots at the oncoming apparition. Then he pitched to the side, his hat tumbling away, as the legs of the ghostly white horse came crashing down beside him.I had previously posted lines from this piece in June when it was still a work in progress.
Cornell Woolrich remains a huge influence and since I've been traveling, I've taken the time to really savor the re-publication of Fright. I read just a chapter a day, often re-reading certain paragraphs to allow Woolrich's exceptional prose to really settle in.
He kept his face back beyond her reach. He had a longer arm-span than she, and her hands flickered help-lessly upon his arms, like wriggling snakes trying to clamber up a pair of fallen tree trunks.The ladies at Women of Mystery can supply you with more Two Sentence Tuesday here.