Tags » Microfiction
Robin moved swiftly and silently through the ancient forest, his leaf-green hood blending with the trees, his mighty bow of yew in his hand. He stopped before the clearing, watching the creature from the shadows, sunlight dancing along its white coat as he stretched back the bowstring. 38 more words
The roar pulled them from their homes. Wrapped in bathrobes, or comforters. Half-drunk coffees held loose, creases criss-crossing their just removed from pillow faces.
“Awful bright for October,” someone said, their voice, a shiver, moved through the crowd like roofer up a ladder’s rungs. 64 more words