100 Worder
Chris Walker
Romance is dead?
Something fermented
Unusually, they had the park to themselves.
It was a serenely beautiful
morning, too. She was contented; amazed that it had worked out so well. They lay
together where the clump of woodland, burgeoning and brightly splashed with the
caress of Spring, sprawled into the neat beds of grass.
Was this, she wondered, the
right moment to make her intentions clear? The thrill of anticipation was an
almost unbearable ecstasy.
She looked blissfully at the corpse. Its head was
shattered; the fresh, spilled contents tantalising her so that she shivered.
"Let me slip into
something more comfortable," said the boreworm.
About the Author
Chris Walker is a
writer of short fiction; a husband, father, dog-owner, game designer, and lover
of all kinds of reading.
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