The night was dark. The contours of the world faded into obscurity as the hazy yellow lights of the street lamps slowly flickered, and then extinguished. Soft moans could be heard from all directions, the distance between them indeterminable.
And then the relative quiet was pierced by a scream.
YOU ARE READING
What Becomes of Us
Short StorySeven people. Twelve days. What will become of them when their lives are on the line and the clock runs steadily against them? A six part short story I wrote for an assignment a while back. Each of the characters are supposed to represent one of...
