Monday 15 November 2010

The Sculptor






She lay still in her chloroform dream.
He'd made little marks in pen over her face, as guides to the amendments required. He rose to put on his favourite Edith Piaff record, then straddled her chest. A photograph of his ex in one hand. A scalpel knife in the other.

50-word story

No comments:

Post a Comment

I need to moderate comments to reduce spam, so they mightn't appear instantly.. thanks so much for leaving a message :)