One sentence story #15

Painting by Béla Spágny


The marshes, quaking with the tides of the dark, rolling sea, stretched on both sides to the low, purple hills strung along the horizon, and behind was only death—she felt its pounding through the soles of her feet.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

5 thoughts on “One sentence story #15”

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