"Are you afraid of me?" whispered Death to her ear, caressing her pink cheeks with its bony fingers and playing with her hair using its scythe.
"No, why would I be afraid of you if I am already dead?"
The end.
"Are you afraid of me?" whispered Death to her ear, caressing her pink cheeks with its bony fingers and playing with her hair using its scythe.
"No, why would I be afraid of you if I am already dead?"
365 Microfictions, Flash Fictions, Micro-Stories and Short Stories written by Sir Helder Amos Copyright © 2011 -- Template created by O Pregador -- Powered by Blogger Templates