the whistle blew and john wiped his sweaty hands on his shorts. in front of him the soccer ball stood still on the turf, waiting to be kicked. he took a deep breath. he looked up at the goal. then he nailed the ball and it soared, high but strong, just
ive never been at a shoot out but it always makes me think of rappers like bigge and tupac. saddays. that was whenreal rappers died . ive been to la but not the same
even went to the hood once and saw all the pr[positutes
was no
basket ball challenge with lots of sweat and swearing who will make the shot and who will fall behind. Fancy foot work, moves and grooves as the ball goes flying soaring through the air.
the whistle blew and john wiped his sweaty hands on his shorts. in front of him the soccer ball stood still on the turf, waiting to be kicked. he took a deep breath. he looked up at the goal. then he nailed
I guess a word that hits close to home. Maybe not so much “shootout” but shooting. But thats not the point of this. But when I think of shoot out I can’t help but think of the word shoot, and thats very personal to me. I guess when I think of shootout though I think of being in one of those old western movies, with the cowboys and the horses running around the town with big rifles. Breaking into saloons and starting bar fights over some stolen moonshine…you get the idea!
darkness between the slotted glances of
the ladies in their bodices, and the
darting eyes of cautious men, armed to the teeth
a whisper of wind, travelling between them
caressing through their hair
one…two…
Talk about the Ok Corale!! Here I am on a cold misty morning and for the love of God I can’t see whats in front of me. How did I ever agree to a “shootout”, and me a non violent person!
The sun was setting, George and Geoff were set ten paces away, their guns were drawn and poised to fire. Soon their shootout would begin and one of them would come back dead.
The stakes are high between my love and I. I wish he were more than just a little boy and gave me the world, but he’s fast asleep tonight. But still I polish my gun and wait, fingers ticking on the trigger, waiting for his aim. I’ll be ready to shoot him down.
Gunfights. How could he write a cowboy novella without a gunfight? A classic shootout in the street where the opponents are facing back to back, clenching their guns in their hand and quietly quaking with fear. Perhaps he could avoid the cliche’s for once?
Like a scent vision clogging my nostrils, the lingering puffs of smoke shot up through my system… I could taste the heaviness of tonights situation, I could feel the coiling and running and finding of death. Five seconds ago the shootout found me ready, and though the fear stung, my adrenaline poured with an unmatched strength into the diluted salvation of the heroin and sling it found there, in me. I reached into my pocket, and it was over… there he wasn’t anymore… there was he gone with good intention; there was he lifeless as I stepped away, floating with the smooth of the drugs in my veins… collapsing.
He could see his breath lingering in the air. His fingers were icicles – partially from the temperature, mostly from trepidation.
“So this is how it’ll go,” he thought. “Staring down the barrel of an ice cold .45.”
He bit his lip and closed his eyes.
One brief, burning moment of pain – and it was gone.
it’s the final seconds of your life and its come down to this. a shootout, a standoff between you and death. who will be left standing? no one is really to know until after it happens but that day will come whether you’re ready or not so you must live your life like it is a game that will end in a tie. that will go down to the final seconds; that will end in a shootout.
Their paths crossed right in front of her heart. They knew there wasn’t enough room for them both to stay there, but they knew the could not fight, either. A shootout right there, between arteries and capillaries, would have caused all of the love she had for the to explode, and there her heart would go, too.
Anger causes people to be blinded
In those moments of anger you can change lives
You can take away the gift of life, bring misery to those who loved them, and bring pain to your own.
Why would you want that
“Hey Jensen, you there?” came the gravelly voice.
“Yeah, I’m here. You expecting the AVON lady? You called, Jensen replied.
“I was there at the shootout at your old house at the beginning of the troubles. I think maybe we can do some business to get you out of here. You in?
“Where, exactly, is here, for starters,” Jensen asked.
In the west the dust blows for hours. The air holds tension like dry bread absorbs water. Two masters of gun dueling face off and the winner is faced in a shoot off by the losers friend’s who can’t stomach the bitter taste of defeat. The winner is cant to such accolades as kissing babies not blazing bullets flying at his head.
guns and people being killed. of sadness and anger. scary and unforgivable. police, people running from the police, and people dying and scared. their families hovering over them and crying, begging them to hold on.
A shootout can mean a lot of things. A lot of people could lose their lives due to one person’s anger, intoxication, or just plain stupidity. Mexican shootouts are the tensest of the sort. Bands of people, stuck in deadlock. A shootout is quite possibly one of the scariest things a person could go through.
Was this what it came down to? A shootout? My heart against hers. Quickest draw kills the other one. I always did move at a sluggish pace. I guess my heart didn’t matter? A quick look, a quick kiss, suddenly I didn’t matter. BANG. There goes my heart. Dead in a shootout.
You’re going to do it, kill them all, whatever it takes. There is a reason you’re here and you can’t let your feelings get in the way. I have to keep telling myself this… Its getting so hard. Don’t let your feelings become who you are.
The earth shattering noises surrounded her head, booming erupted through her senses. She flinched, but with every shot she adapted more and more. running, as fast as she could her mind went blank as she watched the ground.
I’m killing you. shooting out till you are gone. Bye bye. Guess I won’t be seeing you anytime soon. Sorry about that. I guess you deserved it though right?
Take down everyone you can. I don’t care what people say it is the only way to get somewhere in life. Shoot them out. All of them. You are the sniper and this is it.
i was at the wallmart sururban white trash family man that i was and i experiened my first every real life crime scene.thats right folks a real life shoo out. it was the bloods, or no maybe the crepts but one thing i do know for sure is they drove by in their 1960 cadalic and shoot open fire and all of the unsuspecting civillians. 2 men got injured, no one killed however its very unfortunate because now it is my duty to go testify in court,
I never want to participate in a shootout. I don’t think that would be very fun at all. Fun is classified as what I did today—white water rafting. Now that is an experience I would want to relive over and over again. It was just something amazing that came at such a good time when I have been so stressed and missing home, however, now I need to study.
A million years ago there was a small child named Becka she witnessed something that would change her life forever. When that day came it was sunny out side but there was something wrong with the air.
It was two all. Time for shootouts. I’m first. This could decide how well my entire team shoots. This could win the game. Or loose it. I stare at the goalie, and I then distinctly move my eyes to each corner, I shoot.
it is a scary event that takes place anywhere. people will die or get hurt and their is no happy endings. involved in shootouts areguns and usually bad people and people who will risk their lives to make sure no one gets hurt or dies.
Lissie was cold. Cold and dead. Her partner, laying, cradling her dead body. It was a hard job, he tried to stop her from going into the gunfire. He tried to prevent her, because they were partners for 15 years. If only she hadn’t gone into the shootout, if only she had been sick, he wouldn’t be holding her dead body.
The two glared at each other, both in fear, one had it in his hand. The gun. It felt evil under his hand, as it reared for its pray, and he didn’t feel like he was himself anymore. He’s a dummy, a slave to the gun. It pulled it’s own trigger, it seems, at the other’s eyes were calm. Too calm, as he fell backwards agianst the cement.
I have never been involved in a shootout, but if I was, I would probably hide behind the jukebox like a little girl and sing that “AT FIRST I WAS AFRAID, I WAS PETRIFIED” song. Then after feeling like a pussy for 4 minutes I would gather my courage, stand up, scream to high heaven, then shoot myself in the head so I wouldn’t have to deal with the shootout anymore.
the shootout took place at the back of the barn where the cowboys had gathered. They were eager to see which of the men would be left standing after the dust settled. The men watched each other through the haze of the fading light; it was almost sundown and the time had come. The sweat dripped from their faces as they listened to the sound of the wind blowing through the mesquite near the fence.
the whistle blew and john wiped his sweaty hands on his shorts. in front of him the soccer ball stood still on the turf, waiting to be kicked. he took a deep breath. he looked up at the goal. then he nailed the ball and it soared, high but strong, just
ive never been at a shoot out but it always makes me think of rappers like bigge and tupac. saddays. that was whenreal rappers died . ive been to la but not the same
even went to the hood once and saw all the pr[positutes
was no
basket ball challenge with lots of sweat and swearing who will make the shot and who will fall behind. Fancy foot work, moves and grooves as the ball goes flying soaring through the air.
the whistle blew and john wiped his sweaty hands on his shorts. in front of him the soccer ball stood still on the turf, waiting to be kicked. he took a deep breath. he looked up at the goal. then he nailed
I guess a word that hits close to home. Maybe not so much “shootout” but shooting. But thats not the point of this. But when I think of shoot out I can’t help but think of the word shoot, and thats very personal to me. I guess when I think of shootout though I think of being in one of those old western movies, with the cowboys and the horses running around the town with big rifles. Breaking into saloons and starting bar fights over some stolen moonshine…you get the idea!
guns, men, fire, death, and a lot of “get down!”
darkness between the slotted glances of
the ladies in their bodices, and the
darting eyes of cautious men, armed to the teeth
a whisper of wind, travelling between them
caressing through their hair
one…two…
Talk about the Ok Corale!! Here I am on a cold misty morning and for the love of God I can’t see whats in front of me. How did I ever agree to a “shootout”, and me a non violent person!
The sun was setting, George and Geoff were set ten paces away, their guns were drawn and poised to fire. Soon their shootout would begin and one of them would come back dead.
The stakes are high between my love and I. I wish he were more than just a little boy and gave me the world, but he’s fast asleep tonight. But still I polish my gun and wait, fingers ticking on the trigger, waiting for his aim. I’ll be ready to shoot him down.
Gunfights. How could he write a cowboy novella without a gunfight? A classic shootout in the street where the opponents are facing back to back, clenching their guns in their hand and quietly quaking with fear. Perhaps he could avoid the cliche’s for once?
Like a scent vision clogging my nostrils, the lingering puffs of smoke shot up through my system… I could taste the heaviness of tonights situation, I could feel the coiling and running and finding of death. Five seconds ago the shootout found me ready, and though the fear stung, my adrenaline poured with an unmatched strength into the diluted salvation of the heroin and sling it found there, in me. I reached into my pocket, and it was over… there he wasn’t anymore… there was he gone with good intention; there was he lifeless as I stepped away, floating with the smooth of the drugs in my veins… collapsing.
He could see his breath lingering in the air. His fingers were icicles – partially from the temperature, mostly from trepidation.
“So this is how it’ll go,” he thought. “Staring down the barrel of an ice cold .45.”
He bit his lip and closed his eyes.
One brief, burning moment of pain – and it was gone.
it’s the final seconds of your life and its come down to this. a shootout, a standoff between you and death. who will be left standing? no one is really to know until after it happens but that day will come whether you’re ready or not so you must live your life like it is a game that will end in a tie. that will go down to the final seconds; that will end in a shootout.
Their paths crossed right in front of her heart. They knew there wasn’t enough room for them both to stay there, but they knew the could not fight, either. A shootout right there, between arteries and capillaries, would have caused all of the love she had for the to explode, and there her heart would go, too.
Anger causes people to be blinded
In those moments of anger you can change lives
You can take away the gift of life, bring misery to those who loved them, and bring pain to your own.
Why would you want that
“Hey Jensen, you there?” came the gravelly voice.
“Yeah, I’m here. You expecting the AVON lady? You called, Jensen replied.
“I was there at the shootout at your old house at the beginning of the troubles. I think maybe we can do some business to get you out of here. You in?
“Where, exactly, is here, for starters,” Jensen asked.
In the west the dust blows for hours. The air holds tension like dry bread absorbs water. Two masters of gun dueling face off and the winner is faced in a shoot off by the losers friend’s who can’t stomach the bitter taste of defeat. The winner is cant to such accolades as kissing babies not blazing bullets flying at his head.
guns and people being killed. of sadness and anger. scary and unforgivable. police, people running from the police, and people dying and scared. their families hovering over them and crying, begging them to hold on.
I can’t seem to stop thinking of the long barrel.
It’s barren and endlessly long.
What lies at the end. I can not tell.
A shootout can mean a lot of things. A lot of people could lose their lives due to one person’s anger, intoxication, or just plain stupidity. Mexican shootouts are the tensest of the sort. Bands of people, stuck in deadlock. A shootout is quite possibly one of the scariest things a person could go through.
Was this what it came down to? A shootout? My heart against hers. Quickest draw kills the other one. I always did move at a sluggish pace. I guess my heart didn’t matter? A quick look, a quick kiss, suddenly I didn’t matter. BANG. There goes my heart. Dead in a shootout.
You’re going to do it, kill them all, whatever it takes. There is a reason you’re here and you can’t let your feelings get in the way. I have to keep telling myself this… Its getting so hard. Don’t let your feelings become who you are.
The earth shattering noises surrounded her head, booming erupted through her senses. She flinched, but with every shot she adapted more and more. running, as fast as she could her mind went blank as she watched the ground.
I’m killing you. shooting out till you are gone. Bye bye. Guess I won’t be seeing you anytime soon. Sorry about that. I guess you deserved it though right?
Take down everyone you can. I don’t care what people say it is the only way to get somewhere in life. Shoot them out. All of them. You are the sniper and this is it.
i was at the wallmart sururban white trash family man that i was and i experiened my first every real life crime scene.thats right folks a real life shoo out. it was the bloods, or no maybe the crepts but one thing i do know for sure is they drove by in their 1960 cadalic and shoot open fire and all of the unsuspecting civillians. 2 men got injured, no one killed however its very unfortunate because now it is my duty to go testify in court,
It was a lonely alley, but today was brimming with lights, cameras, action. Who would of known the old west was so glamorous?
I never want to participate in a shootout. I don’t think that would be very fun at all. Fun is classified as what I did today—white water rafting. Now that is an experience I would want to relive over and over again. It was just something amazing that came at such a good time when I have been so stressed and missing home, however, now I need to study.
A million years ago there was a small child named Becka she witnessed something that would change her life forever. When that day came it was sunny out side but there was something wrong with the air.
It was two all. Time for shootouts. I’m first. This could decide how well my entire team shoots. This could win the game. Or loose it. I stare at the goalie, and I then distinctly move my eyes to each corner, I shoot.
it is a scary event that takes place anywhere. people will die or get hurt and their is no happy endings. involved in shootouts areguns and usually bad people and people who will risk their lives to make sure no one gets hurt or dies.
In the middle of a gunfight, in the center of a restaurant.
If I were in a shootout against him, I would pull my gun a second before and who cares if that’s cheating. It’s fair enough to me.
between two cowboiys
Lissie was cold. Cold and dead. Her partner, laying, cradling her dead body. It was a hard job, he tried to stop her from going into the gunfire. He tried to prevent her, because they were partners for 15 years. If only she hadn’t gone into the shootout, if only she had been sick, he wouldn’t be holding her dead body.
The two glared at each other, both in fear, one had it in his hand. The gun. It felt evil under his hand, as it reared for its pray, and he didn’t feel like he was himself anymore. He’s a dummy, a slave to the gun. It pulled it’s own trigger, it seems, at the other’s eyes were calm. Too calm, as he fell backwards agianst the cement.
“Oi! You with the face!”
…”Me?”
“No.”
I have never been involved in a shootout, but if I was, I would probably hide behind the jukebox like a little girl and sing that “AT FIRST I WAS AFRAID, I WAS PETRIFIED” song. Then after feeling like a pussy for 4 minutes I would gather my courage, stand up, scream to high heaven, then shoot myself in the head so I wouldn’t have to deal with the shootout anymore.
the shootout took place at the back of the barn where the cowboys had gathered. They were eager to see which of the men would be left standing after the dust settled. The men watched each other through the haze of the fading light; it was almost sundown and the time had come. The sweat dripped from their faces as they listened to the sound of the wind blowing through the mesquite near the fence.