Story: The Witness

His baseball bat was still smudged in red where he had hit my mother and brother. I saw their brains spill over the floor. Holding back a scream, I had hidden in the cupboard. Now he stood right in front of my cupboard, next to the open window. I could see him cleaning the blood on the bat with his jeans--the blood of my family...

Tiny Story: Aftermath

He woke up and took cover. His shirt was drenched in sweat and his breathing laboured. As he heard the gunshots again closeby, he groped in the dark for his gun but couldn't find it. A body lay on the bed. Was that a friend or foe? Where was that damned gun? The body spoke, … Continue reading Tiny Story: Aftermath