Ten Word Stories Not About Death
He boards the one-way plane. Unfortunately, he couldn't escape.
You're not coming back. I leave the light on anyway.
“Well...sure,” she mumbled, unwell, unsure.
“What is it?”
Tearing at the padded walls, he rages, but he’s outside.
He said, “Sorry, I’m from South London, darling.” She wept.
He tugged at the leash, implying that we should go.
The warm sun beams down upon me and mocks me.
If only she could reach the stars captivating his eyes.
Clementine's barriers finally break. She shoots her daughter’s kidnapper.
She reluctantly handed over the book, fear in her eyes.