Tuesday, 9 April 2019

Dead Iron

I didn't look up at the banging on my door, focused on my work as I was. But I was forced to look up when they broke the door lock and stormed in.

"Can I help you?"

The figure dumped a gun onto my anvil.

"Bullets."

I awaited further information.

None came.

"I'm a blacksmith, I don't make bullets. The general store sells about a thousand for $25."

"No, stop them."

I took a long breath.

"Well, yes, that's slightly more in my field."

I picked up the gun and, seeing it was loaded, shot him for breaking my door.

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