Finbar Murphy pressed pause on the computer screen. The movie was his own life, more or less. Small coastal town. Gray skies. A pub called The Crossroads. And him, the retired gunman who’d spent thirty years killing for the wrong reasons before discovering he had a soul.
Finbar looked past him at the men. Belfast types. Guns in waistbands. The Troubles bleeding into every corner of Ireland, even here, where saints were just sinners who hadn’t been caught yet. In.the.Land.of.Saints.and.Sinners.2023.1080p.10...
End of preview.
The "1080p" part was a lie. Finbar’s world was grainy, washed-out, like old newsreel footage. The "10..." could have been ten commandments he’d broken, ten years of silence, or ten minutes until the past came knocking. Finbar Murphy pressed pause on the computer screen
Finbar stepped aside, letting the boy in. But he left the door open for the men. Gray skies
A knock on his cottage door. Not the gentle kind. The kind that meant business.
Here’s a story based on that prompt: The Last Saint of Sinners Rock