“What are you watching?” “It’s my soap opera, #Passion of the #Pachyderms. Stella is about to #leave Steve after a #quarrel over the best tree bark, but she doesn’t know he’s actually been replaced by a Steve from another #dimension.”
The villagers gathered at the #blue #obelisk to hear the priest. “The gods send a message to build a temple near the water!” “I think you just want a beach house,” muttered Stan. “Banish the #heretic #forever!” they cried in #unity.
Eleven #writers gathered on a dark and stormy #night to collaborate. The biographer tossed another #split log onto the fire. “Enough stalling,” she said. “It’s time we wrote the #truth.” “My truth or yours?” asked the poet #timidly.
“Close the #gate!” I #yell as he runs for the front steps. “Don’t look behind you!” His eyes are wide and his breath ragged as he darts past me through the door. I slam it shut, throw the bolt, and brace my #shoulder against it, waiting for impact.
I heard a crash, but the storeroom was empty #except for a pile of mannequin parts on the floor. One of the hands began to #creep toward me of its own #volition. I’d always laughed at disembodied hands in horror films–I’d never have the chance again.