This place was unfamiliar, though pretty in an odd way, and he struggled to remember how he got here. His mind was completely blank. He took a few tentative steps along the cliff path, trying to process the smooth boulders and brassy water below him, all gleaming under the afternoon sun. Evening would fall soon, and he still had no idea where he was.
He tripped and looked down at his shoes. They were untied and covered in splotches of mud. No wait… it was blood! Suddenly, his memories came rushing back in an unstoppable flood. His heart shattered and he sank to the ground, moaning in despair.
A man a few hundred yards away lowered his binoculars. “Shoot him now,” he said to his female companion. “He’s no longer any benefit to us.”
“Will do,” she said. She pointed her weapon at the man with the binoculars.
Written for Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge 74.
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