It’s been a while. Too long.
I know. Things I’ve said before. But I mean it. I used to publish here every week, and life kind of forced a pause on that. A lot has changed, but I miss the writing. I intend to start it up again, slowly, like easing into freezing waters.
How very poetic of me. Look at that. I already sound like someone trying to sound like a writer. Some things don’t change.
This week’s prompt is from The Prediction:
100 words maximum, excluding the title, of flash fiction or poetry using all of the three words above (‘crate’, ‘nerve’, and ‘simultaneous’) in the genres of horror, fantasy or science fiction.
Let’s do this.
I stood in front of the crate for at least 5 minutes, trying to work up the nerve.
In the end, I didn’t even do it. There was this noise, like a wounded animal, and a simultaneous thump from inside. Hard.
The wood splintered and cracked, and I just stood there, eyes closed, while whatever was inside came. I could feel it breathing on me, smell the stench of its breath, before it howled and took off.
I don’t know where it went. I don’t want to know.
I hope I’m never near that thing again.