There are a small hoard of stories that I started and never went anywhere. Maybe one day I'll finish them. I put the number 1 in case I decide to post more of them in the future.
“What a palaver.”
“Are you fucking kidding?” Laurie looked out at the train station from her vantage point on the crossing bridge. “I don’t think palaver’s the right word.”
“I didn’t mean this.” Mark gestured at the bodies that littered the platforms. At least a hundred, probably more. “I meant them.” He pointed out at the SWAT team in the car park. They had no one to point their guns at so they were just standing around looking bored.
“Still think you’re missing the point.”
Is everything falling apart? Did I almost cry in Tesco? Maybe. Here have a thing I don't like but it's all I have.
The text had come through almost 3 hours ago. 3 hours since those 3 words had flashed up on the screen and she had smiled. There’d been a heart emoji at the end, just like always.
3 hours and so much had changed.
A prompt from Claudia S. Thank you!
Laurie was like any other person, she had layers, many of them. And if you tried to cut through to those many layers she would probably make you cry.
It wasn’t her tragic backstory (although it could certainly lead a person to tears). It wasn’t the melancholy way she spoke of her teenage years of stubborn independence. No, the tears would most likely be caused by Laurie herself. Some people cover their pain with humour. Laurie was bitingly mean when she needed to be. Keeping people at arm’s length certainly was a terrific way to never reveal her innermost thoughts and desires.
There was a girl with purple hair who sat at the same table at the same time every day.
She was beautiful.
One time her hair had faded to a weird pinkish red but the very next day it was bright purple again, shiny and vibrant against her black coat. Her nails were a matching shade and they clicked delightfully when she tapped out a text.
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.
Tales written from a prompt in just 10 minutes.
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