Gage swung opened the door and peered inside. The musty smell struck him, then the dust dancing in the sunlight pouring in the window. The frolicking particles indicated his victim had run this way.
Stepping deeper into the shed, he noticed an open back door. “Damn,” he cursed. Lumbering forward, his plaid jacket caught on a vice secured to a thick wooden workbench. He yanked it free.
From behind, he felt a heavy thud. His vision blurred as he dropped to the floor, landing in a soft mound of rodent droppings. The scent was overpowering, and he sank into unconsciousness.
Free-writing to accept the 100-word challenge from Julia’s Place website
Diane McGyver 