Tag: Short Story

I preside in darkness. In this coffin. For what seems like eternities. Crammed like sardines with the other twenty-seven. All made of bone. Then, out of the blackness we hear muffled sounds of voices accompanied by coughing. We become weightless, knocking against each other as we rattle around in a quake. A shaft of light…

Flinging my leg over my red bike, I shunt forward, trundling out of the backyard down the bitumen driveway. Our cul-de-sac is unusually still for late Sunday afternoon in Huntingdale. All the neighbourhood kids must’ve been called in already, either now watching Sunday sports with their parents or being scrubbed clean before dinner time.