It was as good a place as any: fortified by wood and a “no trespassing” sign that the previous owner had kindly spray-painted along the top. We hunkered behind the wrought iron upon which the ivory and tall grass had grown, taking watch according to turn; it wasn’t home, but it would have to do, particularly since the term had become relative since the War had taken everything in which we had formerly put our stock of comfort. I looked into all the hungry and sickening eyes around me that peered from the dark and wondered which would go first.
One hundred little words for such a BIG photo.
BIG, as in: it has a lot to say.
Hi all! It’s so good to see you! I missed all my fellow Fictioneers!
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