tonight's witching hour was enhanced by the radiation storm. no one with sense was out wandering; of course, mccarthy was the unfortunate glowing soul still outside. her last radaway was fizzling out of her system & it cast a gamma ray green aura from a distance. one easily mistaken for a ghoul. approaching footsteps disturbed mccarthy out of her nap & caution called for aiming at the source of the sound.
"miss mississippi, can you spell it?" mccarthy's bonnet was piecemeal satin & silk, the patchwork hair covering half over her face. her aiming eye was the one miraculously left uncovered. she could feel the gun was loaded, at least. but fatigue numbed her paranoia into a weak skepticism. "look, i'm really fuckin' tired so let's cut the fat. guns down on three or i'll ... i dunno, make your bones glow." that one worked occasionally.
@betterknight : “ Who are you? ”
