Things got a little out of hand today. One 50 word short turned into five.
However there is a bit of a twist. Using the same random word generator I worked successively with one to five words to create each story. Five was definitely a bit of a head scratcher.
Tomorrow I think I will try six to ten…but for now here you go.
They would have you believe you’re one gear in the great machine.
But They are lying. You’re muck. Gristle, bones, hair and teeth. You’re nothing more than a residue to Them.
It’s your job to jam the machine and fucking stop it!
Arald leaned heavily on his broadsword. The corpse of the beast dissolved at his feet.
The heavy stone slab slid up into the roof through means arcane to reveal the pedestal and the legendary treasure it held.
But no! What cruel jest from the Gods was this? A pair of scissors!
I’m dying. The stiletto has punctured my lung and I cannot shout for help.
I wish the stars in their majesty were the last sight of my life. But my head lies on its side. All I can see is a snail, oblivious and happy with its leaf.
The ranger hut is abandoned. Old files line one shelf. On the table a solitary binder. A radio sits beside it. I absently thumb the ‘talk’ button on the microphone and let the silence speak for me.
Then I continue north leaving just a thumbprint in the dust.
Frank is beating Terry with a broken off car aerial. Frank’s companions know better than to tell him he’s shooting the messenger.
Then Frank will worry about the judge. And the bribe. The stadium will get its planning permission. Things always work out for Frank.