Aintaerjection

The ultimate form for a story, the short short story:

I sit alone in my dark room, staring out a window. Dim streetlights pour their dirty yellow bits of light into the infinite of night. And yet, the darkness swallows it straight up.

A figure appears in the light. Who is it? I squint.

Hard to say from the shadowy silhouette who it is.

A flash of lightning. Strange. It’s not storm season yet. Winter’s only begun to slip its reluctant hands off the Spring air.

It’s freezing out here. There’s a person in a window looking down at me. Who is it? I squint.

Hard to say from the shadowy silhouette who it is.

Then I step into the light, and stare straight into my own eyes.

And I wake up.

This entry was posted on Thursday, March 19th, 2009 at 11:35 PM and is filed under Story. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.