Sunday, 11 October 2020

Flash Fic Challenge: (Old Habits) Die Hard

 (Old Habits) Die Hard

Things get weird when you can't die. Two centuries ago, I used to practice my drawing and aiming skills for duels on old pots and plates, getting good enough so people would assume I'd won fairly rather than because bullets slide harmlessly through me, like I'm a sand dune. Today I found my old targets in a museum. Apparently they had some "ritual purpose".

I wonder if they'd accept the real explanation. It's not like they can kill me, right?