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#Frank Murdoch
seanhowe · 4 years
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Art by Frank Murdoch
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humanoidhistory · 11 years
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"Davy Crockett, by Frank Murdoch." From the Billy Rose Theater Collection of the New York Public Library.
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on-acid · 14 years
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Field Deity
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setsailslash · 12 years
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30 Days of Writing: 10/30
silver. (god bless america: Frank Murdoch & Roxanne "Roxy" Harmon.)
The bright yellow Camaro gleamed beneath the sun, metallic hood blazing hot as she leaned out of the window. Sky-blue dress catching as the wind rushed through her long brown hair, whipping as she trained a startlingly steady hand up at the running scatter of men.
She pulled the trigger, once, twice, again and again until her bloodlust was well fed with pumping adrenaline and the fresh spray of hot blood across her skin.
Roxy wasn’t angry when Frank found the truth, she knew her lies would always catch up to her anyway (no matter how far she ran, how tired out she was of everything around her.) She was just sad, she never knew losing a friend could mean that much.
Because she could play the victim and no one would doubt her but this friendship with Frank was for life.
She stepped out on the stage and smiled in the face of their horror.
The AK-47 was heavy in her hands but the moment she turned, away from the cameras and over at Frank, her lips twisted into a satirical smirk, like this was exactly everything she had been living up to.
“Thank you, Frank.”
And when we die, we’ll take the silver to our golden Bonnie and Clyde.
XXX Kuro
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