The woman motioned me to approach her. I did, “Who are you?”
“You’re not safe here, Flint.” She touched my shoulder. Everything went blank.
I woke up to discover I was wrapped in black fabric and strapped to a metal grate. I couldn’t move. But the grate I was on was moving. Very quickly.
This is the 9th part of the serial story I’m working on for Lisa McCourt Hollar‘s weekly #55WordChallenge flash fiction challenge. Please, go read all the other entries in the challenge this week. It’s flat amazing what gifted writers can say in just 55 words.
My Soul's Tears 