Thursday, September 2, 2010

Micro fiction - Almost

63 word story. Written as part of the 24/7 Folded Word thingy I participated in.

The place he died was a dirty, rotten, hovel. He took this as a personal affront. That the final smell he would ever experience in his existence would be that rancid odour. The last texture he would touch, the mouldy floor his face was pressed against. It made him so angry, it almost gave him the energy and coordination needed to escape. Almost.


Lee Hughes said...

I did like that, using no more words that you needed to get the atmosphere across.

Joleen said...

Thank you :-) I'm trying to write >100 word stories at the mo, I figure it'll help me develop as a writer as I can occasionally lean toward long-windedness!

David Barber said...

Nice little piece, Joleen. Liked it and as Lee said, no wasted words. Well done.

P.s. I'm intrigued as to how you've suddenly changed your blog and the post I commented on earlier isn't there....???

Joleen said...

You can't see the post from earlier, David? That's should be just below this one, I haven't made any major changes today, just two posts...I can still see it anyway. Hmm. Weird!

Oh, and thanks! :-)

David Barber said...

Ignore me! It's because you had two posts on the same day and they merged together and looked like the same post. Doh!! :-)

Joleen said...

Aha, I see! Don't worry, it sounds like the kind of mistake I would make too. Sign of creative genius - your mind is clearly occupied by much higher things than such details, hehe! ;-)