This is from 3 years ago, so be kind. I have no idea where I was going with this, tbh. It's a cliffhanger for me too.
Lucy was almost certain that someone had a vendetta against her. It was the only explanation for why she was sat on a cold bench in the rain at 3 on a Sunday afternoon. Sunday afternoons were for napping and watching telly with an uncomfortably full stomach. No one was about on a Sunday afternoon, easily exemplified by the empty street around her. A man had walked past about 10 minutes ago but he’d only been going to the corner shop and he’d soon been heading back home. There wasn’t a bus due for another 40 minutes, yet here she was sat in the bus shelter wishing she was anywhere else. Vendetta. Definitely.
That person didn’t actually arrive for another seven minutes, making it a total of 19 minutes that Lucy could have sat inside in the warmth. But no, Cam had said she’d be ‘5 minutes, tops. Please, Luce, please’. Bloody Cam.
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.”
Tales written from a prompt in just 10 minutes.
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