I took a couple of weeks off from Friday Fictioneers due to a lack of time, but I managed to quickly bang out a very quick short story this week. At a 119 words it ran a little long.
This week's photo prompt courtesy Douglas McIlroy sent me down a somewhat unexpected path.
Snowflakes danced and shimmered around Jeremy as he clung to the line, and struggled to draw the thin air into his lungs. This is it, he thought, tears pooling behind his protective goggles as blood seeped through his clothing, staining the ice covered rock face he leaned against. He stared at the neighboring peaks, drinking in the sight, knowing it will be the very last thing he ever sees.
Stretching my arms above my head to work the kinks from my back, I scan the computer screen, reading the last few lines I wrote, enjoying the unexpected path my muse led me down. I wonder how my character will get out of this situation.