“Come out, come out. Where ever you are.” His voice sneered as he walked through the underbrush. “I will find you.” The silver blade in his hand flashed as the moon broke through the clouds. He ducked under a tree that had fallen, and as he straightened up, he was taken off his feet as a large branch collided with the center of his chest.
She stood over his unconscious body, the branch held tightly in both hands, and blew back her blonde tresses with a whip of her head.
“Seriously, this is my last blind date.”
Filed under: Micro Fiction Tagged: Friday Fictioneers
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