“Blue or red wire?” I said into my com, the camera fixated on the explosive on the floor before me, transmitting the live images to Police HQ. The digital screen attached to the bomb glowed, the timer reduced as seconds ticked away. 40 seconds left.
…39…38…

“Cut the red wire.”

He buzzed. I could feel the tension laced in his baritone voice. I could also hear the sirens outside, blaring from a safe distance. I could hear a lot of things. Like my ragged breaths for instance.
…34…33…

I whipped out my knife, and severed the crimson strip.

That was a very big mistake.

The timer was freefalling now, my doom was nigh.

“GET OUTTA THERE NOW!!”
…7…

I couldn’t. There was no time.

“Our Father,” I began. “Who art in Heaven. Hallowed be thy n-”

About the writer 

Emmanuel Okoro is a graduate of Civil Engineering whose candid interests in literature and the arts has made him delve into creative writing.

His works, however little, can be found on Sobolation, and other online mags.You can contact him through his Facebook account of the same name.