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Micro fiction containing a touch of horror, mystery, fantasy, and science fiction. |
| The passing years lightened her hair from midnight strands like a raven's feathers to silvery white strands. Wrinkles crowded the skin at the corners of her eyes, and her vision grew blurry, occasionally. Still, she possessed a passion for writing. Certain that death drew nearer each day, she loved time with her grandchildren, too. "Gram, why do you write such dark stuff?" asked Michael, her strapping, teenaged grandson. Grandmother laughed. "The better to scare you, my dear." Michael grinned. "But you can't," he bragged. "Oh? And why can't I?" "'Cause I've got a secret," he whispered. Grandmother sat frozen as her grandson morphed into a werewolf. -----  -----106 words original around 2004/2005 |
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