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Story Notes:

Wow, it's been a while. Hi guys! :D

So, yesterday was my second year anniversary on Psychfic, and I thought, "Now's as good a time as any to celebrate by posting things." That gave me the drive to prepare this drabble collection.

I have a bit of a deal going with applejacksjules-- we both give each other one-word prompts and exchange the drabbles (100 words for her, 150 for me) with each other. So came the birth of the snippets in this collection, and I can't thank the dear woman enough. (She also helped with the title and summary, so I'm very much in her debt. :P

And now... *takes a deep breath* PSYCH IS... not mine.

What, you thought that was going to be a dramatic disclaimer? Yeah, no. It's not mine. Sadly, that's the trufax of life. :P

Author's Chapter Notes:

This is, as the chapter title indicates, the first drabble I wrote. Enjoy!

Character[s]: Shawn

Genre: Suspense

Rating: E

~Strike~

 

Shhhhccck. 

The scrape of the match being lit. It echoed in Shawn’s ears like it came from an endless tunnel. The solitary flame that haphazardly trembled and danced on the little splinter of wood was so simplistic— so innocent, almost— that it was hard to be afraid of it. 

The man who held it, however, was more intimidating than the flame. “I can’t have you or this evidence leaving this room,” he’d growled angrily. He’d shoved a gun against Shawn’s throat, forcing him and Gus to sit on a pair of rickety metal chairs, set far enough apart that they couldn’t yet reach to untie each other’s wrists. Boxes of ammunition and a few handfuls of smuggled explosives sat drenched in puddles of gasoline.  

Now the pseudo-psychic felt his heart thumping in a rhythm of fear. The tiny little match did no harm— but the explosion it could start would.

 

Chapter End Notes:

I have a line-up of other drabbles, so I'll probably update once a week; after those are through, I'll update as I write them. :)

...I've really missed this. <3



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