MCM in all his craziness is trying to write 1,000 short stories this summer. It's simple, just shoot him a line by email and get a story. It's really just that simple. I sent in a story idea, the failed idea generation using TV tropes for Merrilee's workshop. Remember? A 25 year old blind pregnant former magical girl is a hostage in a bank. So at 2:00pm I sent him the line and at 4:00pm, I got a story. So go visit MCM's website and read his books or better yet, request a 1,000 word story to help him meet his goals! Go to his website and drop him a comment there as well!
Here's the story: Wrong Place by MCM
The gunshot made the baby kick, and while everyone else pushed themselves closer to the floor, Daisy could only sit against the counter, cradling her belly and trying not to cry.
“Open the damn safe!” shouted the tallest robber, pistol aimed at the bank manager, fumbling with keys. He dropped them, bent to pick them up, when a bullet ended his life. “You!” snapped the robber. “Get the keys and do what I say!”
Ethan slid closer to Daisy, grabbed her hand and squeezed.
“Are you hurt?” he whispered, checking over his shoulder to see if any of the gunmen had noticed. Daisy shook her head, clenching her teeth, trying not to make a noise. She wanted to scream. Her tinted glasses were missing, her white cane too, and the chaos around her were overwhelming her other four senses.
“Where are they?” she asked, trying to keep her eyes closed. If they thought she was looking at them, they might take offence, and she’d be dead.
“Everywhere,” hissed Ethan. “They’re everywhere.”
She nodded, rubbed her belly, started to say a prayer, praying to survive this, for Ethan to survive, to be able to deliver her baby and give him a name and teach him everything her mother had taught her, and—
“Is that a spell?” Ethan asked, squeezing her hand.
“What? No!” Daisy hissed. “You know I can’t—”
“If there were ever a time, this is it!”
“Ethan!” she said, taking her hand away. “It could hurt the baby! You know what happens if they’re exposed in the womb. I can’t do that to our son!”
He reached for her hand again, but then she heard it: heavy footsteps coming near.
“You two!” shouted one of the robbers. “What’s the chatter?” Ethan yelped as they pulled him away from her, and she heard the sounds of his feet kicking out, sneakers sliding on the tile until he was thrown in a heap somewhere too far away from her.
“She’s pregnant,” pleaded Ethan, “she’s just preg—”
She couldn’t see, but she knew the sound of bones breaking. Ethan shrieked, panting, and she heard a bullet being loaded into the chamber of the gun. Daisy held on to her baby, held on to her hope, and tried to weigh him against the only man who had really loved her without the spells.
“Everyone!” yelled the robber. “I said no talking, or there’d be consequences! And here they are!”
He cocked the gun, and Daisy squeezed her eyes shut. The next words out of her mouth were a desperate chant, and she prayed to god he’d forgive her.