WWP: Traces

The scrap of fabric on the brambles was the first trace of Beatrice that anyone had yet … More WWP: Traces

Nomad

She could remember it so clearly: long days spent on the road, sitting in the passenger seat with her mother behind the wheel of their rusting orange car. They’d sung along to pop songs playing on loop. … More Nomad

A Walk in the Park

A Walk in the Park Jake stumbled along the familiar route, drawn to the warm light shining through his window. Home. He was nearly home. The chill air bit into his exposed arms, the thin shirt doing little to warm him, and he shivered. His thoughts skittered as his gaze caught on the trees lining the path. This … More A Walk in the Park

Unceasing Strife

Unceasing Strife “Is that food ready yet, woman?” Julian sighed – here we go again. “It’ll be ready when its done. If you got off your lazy backside and helped out, maybe it’d be ready sooner!” Every day it was the same: Henry would snarl and Edna’ strident voice would rise in response. He’d found … More Unceasing Strife

Standing in Line

He’d been standing in line, waiting his turn, for far longer than he cared to remember. The sign continued to blink idly in the distance; the column shuffled slowly forwards. Bureaucracy, it seemed, wasn’t just a problem in the land of the living. This post is for Sonya’s Three Line Tales challenge.