Faster than the speed of sound he flew on a November afternoon. He wasn’t malicious, but he had a mission. He’d heard it said that his kind had killed untold millions of people and animals.
Now he flew over cheering crowds with banners. How refreshing after being incarcerated in a box with uncommunicative fellows! Scantily clad girls smiled in the unseasonal sunshine. He remembered an explosion, then quickly passing through a dark tube out into the warm, fresh air. The tube had made him spin, he felt a bit dizzy, but he must fly straight and true!
Then he saw the ‘target’, a man being driven through crowded streets, past the Dallas Electrical Company, waving. He saw the man getting closer and closer then – Bam! – into the man’s head.
His energy was weight multiplied by speed squared and although small he went extremely fast – a lot of energy!
He hit some bone and it shattered, then some red stuff and then more bone, then out into the air again, exhausted. Travelling faster than sound, no one had even heard the gun yet!
When someone was shot they said the bullet had their name on it. This bullet’s name was John.
Featured in the book, To Cut a Short Story Short: 111 Little Stories
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