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87a362e
|
"She whirled when the monster was almost on top of her. I thought the thing in her hands was an umbrella until she cranked the pump and the shotgun blast blew the giant twenty feet backwards, right into Nico's sword. "Nice one," Paul said. "When did you learn to fire a shotgun?" I demanded. My mom blew the hair out of her face. "About two seconds ago. Percy, we'll be fine. Go!"
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|
gun
|
Rick Riordan |
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e185533
|
Why did she do it? Nobody dared to ask. Because - what courage! Who had the courage to burn herself? Twenty aspirin, a little slit alongside the veins of the arm, maybe even a bad half hour standing on a roof: We've all had those. And somewhat more dangerous things, like putting a gun in your mouth. But you put it there, you taste it, it's cold and greasy, your finger is on the trigger, and you find that a whole world lies between this moment and the moment you've been planning, when you'll pull the trigger. That world defeats you. You put the gun back in the drawer. You'll have to find another way. What was that moment like for her? The moment she lit the match. Had she already tried roofs and guns and aspirins? Or was it just an inspiration? I had an inspiration once. I woke up one morning and I knew that today I had to swallow fifty aspirin. It was my task: my job for the day. I lined them up on my desk and took them one by one, counting. But it's not the same as what she did. I could have stopped, at ten, or at thirty. And I could have done what I did do, which was go onto the street and faint. Fifty aspirin is a lot of aspirin, but going onto the street and fainting is like putting the gun back in the drawer. She lit the match.
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|
suicide
failed-attempt
match
gun
|
Susanna Kaysen |
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b40a23e
|
Put a gun to my head and paint the wall with my brains.
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|
suicide
gun
|
Chuck Palahniuk |
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455169e
|
"Great, they give blind kids guns," I said, trying to lessen his horror. "I don't even let Iggy have a gun. Usually."
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|
iggy
gun
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James Patterson |
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645d1b7
|
"Don't have to see," the pilot grunted. " knows the way." "Funny name for an aircraft," Grace commented. "Is it after your wife?" "My gun." Grace stared at him. "You named your plane after a ?" "It was a very good gun."
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|
rising
vespers
cahill
grace
pilot
gun
|
Gordon Korman |
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296d106
|
"Is he a scumbag in training?" Richard glanced at the gunman. "At least have the decency to hold the gun properly, you fool. If you don't know how, pass it to someone who does. I'm not going to suffer being shot at by anything less than a full- fledged lowlife. (Richard)"
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|
humor
lowlife
scumbag
gun
|
Ilona Andrews |
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cf2a29c
|
Moshe was an Israeli with an ear-slitting laugh. He used it in the same way as a madman uses a gun, spraying it around with bewildering randomness.
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|
israeli
moshe
the-beach
gun
laugh
madman
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Alex Garland |
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2fe68e3
|
"I'll keep it in my bedside drawer, in case I'm woken in the middle of the night and mistake the cat for an intruder. An honest accident." "You're not shooting the cat. It would leave a mess."
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|
humor
olivia
gabriel
gun
|
Kelley Armstrong |
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5a20e5c
|
"I should have a gun." "And you think I can provide it?" "Ask your biker gang buddies." "They prefer the term 'motorcycle club.'" "I'm sure they do."
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kelley-armstrong
olivia
motorcycles
omens
gabriel
gun
|
Kelley Armstrong |
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79ab00b
|
The best example I know, of this astonishingly stupid attitude towards sport, is that of Franz Ferdinand. His, however, was an achievement with the gun. He used to shoot at Konopist with no less than seven weapons and four loaders, and he once killed more than 4,000 birds, himself, in one day. [ of statistics and quite beside the point: a Yorkshireman once drank 52 1/2 pints of beer in one hour.] Now why did Franz Ferdinand do this? Even if he shot for twelve hours at a stretch, without pause for luncheon, it means that he killed six birds in each minute of the day. The mere manual labour, a pheasant every ten seconds for twelve successive hours, is enough to make a road-mender stagger; and there is little wonder that, by the time the unhappy archduke had accumulated his collection of 300,000 head of game, he was shooting with rubber pads on his coat and a bandage round his ears. The unfortunate man had practically stunned himself with gunpowder, long before they bagged him also at Sarajevo.
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|
pheasant
gunpowder
sarajevo
gun
shooting
game
|
T.H. White |
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03fc635
|
"He's prowling back and forth like a lion with distemper now. There's a shiny streak down one side of his face. "I shouldn't have let her go ahead - I ought to be hung! Something's gone wrong. I can't stand this any more!" he says with a choked sound. "I'm starting now -" "But how are you -" "Spring for it and fire as I go if they try to stop me." And then as he barges out, the fat lady waddling solicitously after him, "Stay there; take it if she calls - tell her I'm on the way-" He plunges straight at the street-door from all the way back in the hall, like a fullback headed for a touchdown. That's the best way. Gun bedded in his pocket, but hand gripping it ready to let fly through lining and all. He slaps the door out of his way without slowing and skitters out along the building, head and shoulders defensively lowered. It *was* the taxi, you bet. No sound from it, at least not at this distance, just a thin bluish haze slowly spreading out around it that might be gas-fumes if its engine were turning; and at his end a long row of un-colored spurts - of dust and stone-splinters - following him along the wall of the flat he's tearing away from. Each succeeding one a half yard too far behind him, smacking into where he was a second ago. And they never catch up. ("Jane Brown's Body")"
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|
gunplay
mobsters
noir
gun
chase
crime
mob
|
Cornell Woolrich |
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1482faa
|
His fear-inflamed mind sent the control-signal to his finger-joint to fold back. The trigger sliced back. The blast seemed to lift the booth clear off the floor, drop it down again. A pin-wheel of vacancy appeared in the glass, flinging off shards and slivers.
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|
crime-thriller
pistol
shooter
shootings
gunplay
noir
noir-fiction
gun
guns
shooting
|
Cornell Woolrich |
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45f40dd
|
Never too late. Shooting is prayer. And when civilisation shuts up shop, a gun'll be worth any number of university degrees.
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|
university-degree
shop
gun
|
David Mitchell |
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aaa8b20
|
"What . . . fellow?" The wind was cool, but I could see sweat trickling down the back of Jamie's neck, dampening his collar and plastering the linen between his shoulders. Duff didn't answer immediately. A look of speculation flickered in his small, deep-set eyes. "Don't think about it, Duff," Roger said, softly, but with great assurance. "I can reach ye from here with an oar, ken?" "Aye?" Duff glanced thoughtfully from Jamie, to Roger, and then to me. "Aye, reckon ye might. But allowin' for the sake for argyment as how you can swim, MacKenzie--and even that Mr. Fraser might keep afloat--I dinna think that's true of the lady, is it? Skirts and petticoats . . ." He shook his head, pursing thin lips in speculation as he looked at me. "Go to the bottom like a stone, she would." Peter shifted ever so slightly, bringing his feet under him. "Claire?" Jamie said. I saw his fingers curl tight round the oars, and heard the note of strain in his voice. I sighed and drew the pistol out from under the coat across my lap. "Right," I said. "Which one shall I shoot?"
|
|
clever
drown
roger-mackenzie
seasick
threatening
jamie-fraser
seasickness
threats
drowning
gun
threat
|
Diana Gabaldon |
|
3fff438
|
"Geraldine keeps her eyes trained on him as she slowly reaches into her purse, wrapping her fingers around her gun. "...Callo, I'm so sorry that your life ended up this way," she sighs as she gets out of her side of the car, her feet burning from the cold as her high heels sink into the fallen snow. "Aren't you scared?" "I'm you, Geraldine... I fell into the same trap as you, anyway," Callo answers. His large eyes are shining with tears, but he doesn't seem afraid in the least. "...The dead don't feel anything, you know... not even guilt or regret. So, what is there to be afraid of?"
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|
depression
emotion
fear
death
friendship
apology
forlornness
usurer
high-heels
forlorn
purse
revolver
lonliness
friend
trap
gun
tears
regret
kill
depressed
dead
guilt
die
eyes
dying
mental-illness
|
Rebecca McNutt |
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3d480ec
|
There are easier ways of making sense, the connoisseurship of gesture, for example. You hold a girl's face in your hands like a vase. You lift a gun from the glove compartment and toss it out the window into the desert heat.
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|
guy
heat
gun
surrealism
|
Billy Collins |
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3cd0c80
|
Glory belongs to God, of course; that's what the word really means. And you can't serve God with a gun.
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|
god
gun
|
Gregory David Roberts |
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66d7bb0
|
You're praying, they're praying, and God, oddly enough, will come down on the side of the one with the most guns and most willing to use them. God always does.
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|
gun
|
Robert Ferrigno |