My Short Fiction



The neon glow enveloped the city built by and for corporations. The streets looked soul-less, though crowded with bodies walking in black coats, past glaring lamp-posts.

Roy stepped out of the shadows. Then he froze.

All eyes were on him. The neon lights seemed to gather together to reflect his name. The voices from the bodies rose as one – a chant as deep as a bottomless pit and as empty as the yawning mouth of a deep hole —

“Welcome to hell, Roy.”

Note: First Line Friday prompt at Mindlovemisery's Menagerie

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s