Fiction

Black Revenge

Marilyn tidied up the appartment under a thundercloud, wishing Matt would die in a fire rather than come back, until she walked through the hall with a bottle of india ink in her hand. He had left his best-beloved suede jacket on the coat rack.

This was much better. She would hear him scream.

Comments

Thank you!

I like to mix things up and try for different story lengths on occasion... and I'm glad writing a short story didn't destroy my ability to write flash, after all. XD

Lovely, flash should be flash, quick to read with an implied back story and impact... like this.