As a writing exercise, I've decided to play along sometimes with the daily themes on 100 word stories. Fiction, as you would guess, of 100 words exactly, as you can no doubt deduce. Oh, and you don't count the 'prompt phrase/title' in the 100 words. You can go over there and see today's prompt, and read what others have written, or vote, or write something yourself. It's an interesting exercise in micro-fiction.
He couldn’t care less…
The summer heat had ripened the bananas in a single day, so they smelled sweetly rotten. He sniffed the milk. Sour. Pulled out a slice of bread. A dot or two of blue on one side. Does heat kill mould? When the toaster returned it, he scraped it down, smeared on some honey and went back outside.
Nothing had changed. The air was salty, humid, still, the day’s heat building up. The empty, silent beach house was loud with memories – his grandfather’s fishing rod, his father’s favourite chair. That longboard. He headed to the beach with it under his arm.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment