Thursday, 31 March 2011

More Microfiction

It's a creepy doll this time.

As promised here's my entry from yesterday.


It was dark. Stuart limped along the rough track to the lake, hounded by his father’s ragged breath, the strap of the hold-all rubbing painfully against his bruised shoulder.

The water was placid. He took the jar from his bag and released the Fireflies with a defiant smile. They swarmed, iridescent, above his head, a small part of his childhood in each of them.

‘Where d’ya think you’re going?’ his father slurred.

‘Nowhere,’ Stuart said calmly. ‘I’m not a child anymore. And it’s time I stood up to you.’

He didn’t flinch as his father took off his belt.

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