I don't know what happens after you die.
There are animals on the corner. They watch with beady eyes and shining teeth. Their growls can be heard over the hum of distant traffic.
There are animals on the corner and they wait with red-stained maws, fur matted with gore, brows furrowed.
Ready to pounce.
I'm a big proponent on the to-do list and playing with form in writing.
Lists are a great tool to organise your thoughts. Lists can be as long or as short as you need to get yourself in order. This list was fairly short but really solidified the task at hand.
I'm not really sure what this is.
It was the beginning of the green hour, the sky darkening rapidly. Emily scampered inside to avoid the twilight minutes before the street lamps flickered on and illuminated the deep emerald of the sky.
The birds had begun chirping somewhere in the middle of the pink hour, relentless in their demands for food that she could not provide. She had spent the intervening few hours picking scraps from the floor and placing them into a small, ragged bag. She had barely enough when she sprinkled it on the floor of the cage. The birds were on it immediately, fighting over the meagre crumbs she could scrape up from outside the bakery.
“I think I’m lost.” I muttered to myself as I turned right, for the third time. Someone, at some point, had said you had to follow the right-hand path of a maze to get to the middle. Or maybe it was the left. Shit.
It wasn’t that I wasn’t enjoying myself, but I had lost all of the people I had been walking with and had been stumbling around lost for at least 10 minutes without seeing anyone I recognised.
Just some bite-size stories. The first collection is here.
When the song began playing for the 7th time she knew then that she was indeed in hell. The people around her sang along as if they hadn’t been there the first six times. She just looked to the sky and screamed her frustration.
Tales written from a prompt in just 10 minutes.
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