Writer's Block: Six-Word Story

[meisshe]

I own your soul, for now

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[rudelad737]

We left there, holding dirty money.

Because the train was late, death.

The lake was cold. Her, warm.

I couldn't say why it ended.

The blood was on the wall.

I escaped on a bus south.

"Slap leather," the rough cowboy breathed.

And just for you,

Three blades, two feet, total carnage.