“There goes Dabney,” said Bob, watching his former boss sink like a cement boot.
“He always did over-explain,” said Florence, tightening her grip on the gunnel. She would never give up.
Friday Flash Fiction |
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It was a dark and stormy night. The rowboat bounced on the waves like an anorexic teen at a rave. Raindrops the size of albatross dung pounded the three people clinging to the sides of the boat. “We’ll never reach--” Dabney yelled, cut off mid-sentence.
“There goes Dabney,” said Bob, watching his former boss sink like a cement boot. “He always did over-explain,” said Florence, tightening her grip on the gunnel. She would never give up.
Bobby Warner
6/9/2014 10:09:04 am
I'd never dream of staring a story with "It was a dark and stormy night"; but you did--and you made it work! Way to go. Comments are closed.
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"Classic"
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