Microfiction #Three line tales: Run

This is for Sonya’s photo prompt

Photo ©Dominick Martin


The siren woke him, its familiar wail breaking into his dreams, but the stench of burning was what made him leap out of bed.

Smoke obscured the window, and the leaping brilliance of flames, and when the siren stopped abruptly, its clamour was replaced by the unearthly din of thousands of throats screaming.

He ran from the building, not even waiting to dress properly, fought his way through the crowds that filled the streets, the cars swamped in their futile attempt to get away quicker, further, but when he looked over his shoulder and saw what was looming through the smoke and flickering, failing city lights, he knew there was nowhere to run.

Three line Tales: Running

Catching up on my three-liners, Sonya’s weekly photo prompt.

Photo ©Martins Zemlickis


They jogged out of the underpass, suddenly cold though they had entered in hot June sunshine, and into uncanny silence.

Broken trees dripped chill; sleet blew in a rising gale, and the howling that began was not the voice of the wind.

The marathon runners had left the summer of ’16 and emerged in the post apocalypse of ’26, where the Beast was waiting for them.