• the_novel_idealist

29 November 2019 - 15 Minute Fiction Friday

The crunch of the stones beneath his feet ceased.

He gripped at his hammer tightly, feeling the nervous sweat in the palm of his hand, and waited, listening intently.

Minutes passed, with only the sounds of the whistling breeze and his heavy breaths breaking the silence.

Philip had almost given up hope, perhaps he had got lucky, perhaps he wouldn’t have to do it, perhaps he could go home, relax, and forget that any of this had happened.

Cruelly, as though the man had heard his hopes for redemption, Peter heard the growing sounds of crunching stones in the distance.