Night festers in the clouds. It stains the earth in eye-like patches of red and white, dragging warmth from the desert of faces below. They twitch. They are young.
The prophet speaks. Children are our gods, blamed as much as they are loved. One falls. He is holy.
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YOU ARE READING
Flash Fiction and Short-Shorts
RandomAll stories here are 1000 words or less. Though small, they are big in meaning. There are also writing prompts for the dreaded block. The last essay-- I don't exactly agree with anymore, but my writing was on fire. I was going through some things! ...