I always saw him in my dreams. We met in a thinly wooded forest with a smoldering red sky. Why, I don’t know. But he was always there.
She couldn’t remember a time before the swamp.
The terrible sound rushed upon us, gnawing at our backs as we ran over the plump spring grass.
A flash fiction written in a couple of minutes, inspired by the discomfort of dermatophagia.
I started hearing their music pretty soon after the accident, and every night it became sweeter and more damning.
This little fable was originally composed on Twitter. For the sake of authenticity, I’ve left it as is, including word choices and composition required to meet the Twitter character limit. Enjoy!
I hate how predators are depicted in movies.