a writing portfolio
[short story writing 271]
there's a jar of blue pearls on the table. and next to it, some string.
nimble fingers pick them up, and one by one joins them in painful matrimony.
when she is finished, she hangs it around her neck; a...
bonus prompt: the park bench word count: 173 prompt cue: COVID 19 Is a person
The night is young—and warm. I spot you from the distance and I laugh. Your face is uncovered. Really, who is at fault here?
I picture what your lungs would look like; clean, pure, unadulterated. I look around my current home and will you to come nearer. Anything to escape this toxic, oozing wasteland.
The bench looks clean, but you hesitate. I watch you bite your lip and smile when your pure lungs cross the street and sit. I lick my dark red fangs.
"Soon," I whisper to my children. "You will have a new home,"
Anticipation grows. The air crackles, and the precipice draws near; "Silly human," I murmur.
My host, she turns toward you and I instantly take action. She cannot breathe, so she pulls her mask down. She coughs. A terrifying sound escapes her. And then you.
"Sorry," she wheezes, as your hands scramble to cover your face.
I stand and gaze around me, taking in my new home.
And I smile.
***
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