Wow, trying to write a complete micro-fiction story and make it work into my Camp Nanowrimo novel is really tough.
I love the beauty of photo prompt supplied by
I appreciate the irony.
After all of my various self-destructive stunts, a clam shell was going to get the job done. If I hadn’t been in such a hurry, if I’d grabbed my shoes, if I’d looked where I was stepping, the broken shell would not have mangled the bottom of my foot. Blood surges from the gash, uniting with mud and bits of road gravel, sapping my strength, making my movements sluggish.
I stumble, falling to my knees. All I can think about is the words I’ve left unspoken.