Rochelle Wisoff-Fields is here with yet another Friday Fictioneer flash fiction challenge. The photo prompt this week is courtesy of Roger Bultot.
He looked out into the dull grey sky at the flock of pigeons roosting atop the power lines. Their constant prattling was annoying him. Picking up his rifle, he took aim and squeezed the trigger.
Smeared in blood, the bird dropped onto the pavement flapping its wings uncontrollably writhing in pain before it stiffened. The other birds flapped away in a frenzy at the blasting sound.
Bobby smirked at the sight of the dead bird. He had silenced it, just like he had silenced his wife.
He turned and walked into their bedroom to admire her rigid body yet again.
[Word Count: 100]
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