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Quote by John Mount

“Every morning he cast a mistrustful glance at the mirror then dragged a safety razor across cheeks that bore the faint shadow of teenage blemishes that countless facials and laser treatments hadn’t entirely eradicated.”

Quote by John Mount

Book:Shoal: A Thanet Writers Anthology
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Shoal: A Thanet Writers Anthology

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John Mount

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“The revolver was chambered for .442 rounds, which meant there was only room for five. "These are large caliber bullets for such a short gun," Merritt remarked. "It's designed to stop someone at close range," Ethan said, absently arching up to rub a spot on his chest. "Being hit by one of those bullets feels like a kick from a mule." "Why is the hammer bobbed?" "To keep it from catching on the holster or clothing, if I have to draw it fast." Keeping the muzzle of the gun pointed away from him, Merritt reassembled the revolver, slid the extractor rod into place, and locked it deftly. "Well done," Ethan commented, surprised by her assurance. "You're familiar with guns, then." "Yes, my father taught me. May I shoot it?" "What are you going to aim for?" By this time, the others had come out from the parlor to watch. "Uncle Sebastian," Merritt asked, "are those pottery rabbits on the stone wall valuable?" Kingston smiled slightly and shook his head. "Have at it." "Wait," Ethan said calmly. "That's a twenty-yard distance. You'll need a longer-range weapon." With meticulous care, he took the revolver from her and replaced it in his coat. "Try this one." Merritt's brows lifted slightly as he pulled a gun from a cross-draw holster concealed by his coat. This time, Ethan handed the revolver to her without bothering to disassemble it first. "It's loaded, save one chamber," he cautioned. "I put the hammer down to prevent accidental discharge." "A Colt single-action," Merritt said, pleased, admiring the elegant piece, with its four-and-a-half-inch barrel and custom engraving. "Papa has one similar to this." She eased the hammer back and gently rotated the cylinder. "It has a powerful recoil," Ethan warned. "I would expect so." Merritt held the Colt in a practiced grip, the fingers of her support hand fit neatly underneath the trigger guard. "Cover your ears," she said, cocking the hammer and aligning the sights. She squeezed the trigger. An earsplitting report, a flash of light from the muzzle, and one of the rabbit sculptures on the wall shattered. In the silence that followed, Merritt heard her father say dryly, "Go on, Merritt. Put the other bunny out of its misery." She cocked the hammer, aimed and fired again. The second rabbit sculpture exploded. "Sweet Mother Mary," Ethan said in wonder. "I've never seen a woman shoot like that." "My father taught all of us how to shoot and handle firearms safely," Merritt said, giving the revolver back to him grip-first.”

Gun ControlShooterRevolverMerritt SterlingMarsdensMarcus Westcliff
Book:Devil in Disguise
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“Nici o ştire interesantă. Totul era un turn de iluzii, din cărămizi iluzorii şi găunoase. Dacă viaţa ar fi alcătuită numai din lucruri importante, ar fi ca o casă periculoasă de sticlă, greu de manuit. Dar viaţa de toate zilele era întocmai ca titlurile din ziare. Cunoscand lipsa de însemnătate a existenţei, toată lumea aşază centrul compasului în propria-i casă.”

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“Așa stând lucrurile, coexistența cu „vanitatea lumii” este posibilă în virtutea „sistemului de iluzii”: iluzia că trebuie să am un „urmaș”, că trebuie să dau din coate pentru a ocupa un loc pe scena lumii, că trebuie să mă bat pentru o idee, că trebuie să am o funcție și putere și bani, că trebuie să scriu, să pictez sau să compun, că trebuie să „însemn” ceva pentru semenii mei, că gesturile mele pot influența sau schimba în vreun fel „cursul lumii”. Toată viața stă și crește pe acest țesut de iluzii.”

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