Today, on one of the forums, one of the frequent posters was talking about a national writing contest. The goal was to write a 50,000-word novel in a ...onth. It sounded like the sort of challenge Cyn was looking for. “I should write a book about sex. ‘The hooker’s guide to keeping your man happy… so he won’t come to me’. It has a nice ring to it.” She spoke aloud, unconcerned at the thought of talking to herself. Like her momma always said, it isn’t talking to yourself that’s the problem, it’s. As they momentarily forgot their own situation, they watched a silver SUV round the bend at a high rate of speed. Jordan suddenly dropped his gun and ran towards the house. Max thought it was strange of him to do that, but before he could fully process it, he found out why. The vehicle slowed and the tinted rear window rolled down. Max saw the long barrel of a gun poke out and seconds later the person holding it began spraying the house, the cars, and even them with bullets. Max dove for Megan. More

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