When I came to, I could feel the stony path pressing against my scalp, but couldn’t shake the sensation that I was upside down. I’m not sure how long I stared up at the sky before I realized that the leaves on the forest floor were lazily floating upwards.
I stood bathed in moonlight, staring at the gaping hole within the knot of an oak tree, tensely waiting for something terrible to emerge. When the hole closed like a fist I howled in rage.
Patrick leaned over the long table crowded with books, meticulously scanning each one. He took his time, even though the pop up sale would be closing soon, and just being caught browsing held considerable risk. Opportunities like this did not come up often, and he did not want to miss a chance to add to his collection. **************** Three Line Tale for Sonya’s weekly challenge. Photo credit Clem Onojeghuo via Unsplash.
Luella hovers for a moment before landing, every feeler on her body at high alert. The nourishment she needs is within her reach, but she hesitates. Her senses tell her danger is lurking nearby.
It was a worst case scenario, setting sail as winter barreled towards the island. The braying of the gulls felt like an ominous warning. Unfortunately, the waves of undead sailors crawling onto the beach from the heavy cruiser half sunk off shore left me no other choice. ******** photo by Lalo via Unsplash Thanks to Sonya, who provides a weekly Three Line Tales prompt at her blog Only 100 Words.
Waiting at the bus stop, I sigh heavily as I stare at the ground, feeling the rain drum against my shoulders. I panic when the raindrops start to feel like fingers.
What should have been an occasion to celebrate had immediately turned into a nightmare of police questioning, media harassment, and stress. After all, finding a hundred thousand dollars in your living room wall is great, unless you find a body stuffed in next to it.
I should have known something was off about my date, Steve, from the beginning. Anyone who lets a match burn down to their fingers without flinching should not be trusted.
The fairies had been gone from the garden for years now. Even still, whenever she passed through it the memories of that terrible night haunted her, and she swore she could still hear their screams.
Cold, damp dirt clung to my fingers and caked my broken nails as I stared at the empty grave I had just dug up, shivering. A quiet voice behind me whispered, “I told you I wouldn’t be there.”