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A blog for poetry, prose, and pop culture.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Flash Fiction: Under A Dead Sun

Episode 2

Katee Sinclair's skirt had been pulled over her head, and she slid it back into place with an practiced motion. She rolled the greasy drunk off of her and slid out of bed, stuffing the coins thrown on the table down her blouse. She reached over to her small clutch and pulled out a smoke she had rolled earlier, lighting a match off the worn bedpost.

Katee moved towards the window, it had been a long night and she was looking forward to the sunrise. She took a long drag and pulled the flimsy curtain to the side, searching for the sunrise. She was fairly surprised to see it still dark outside, her appointments were well regulated by the saloon's owner, Boothe, and by her count it should be getting light outside. She gave another tired sigh and stomped her cigarette out. Then she headed towards the wash basin and pitcher, cleaning herself up for her next client.

Just as she started pouring the water in, Katee heard two loud shots from the saloon, and the sounds of cursing. She quickly moved to the door and peered out, and gave a deathly shriek, as a yellow skinned man turned to face her, entrails hanging from the hole that use to be his stomach. He started to move toward Katee, mouth stretching open wide, hands ending in blackened claws. That's when Katee realized she was going to die.

End of Line.

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