Kirsty Macleod
Stories (3/0)
Last Supper
Mary hummed a merry tune as she collected freshly laid eggs from the hen hut, occasionally making conversation with the clucking feathered ladies, her only friends in this far lonely corner of the world. The man had already left to work in the woods, he would return at sundown. Plenty of time for Mary to go for a quick morning walk in the cooling August air, with time to spare to get all of her chores and plans done.
By Kirsty Macleod3 years ago in Fiction
Treacherous Heart
With every hastened step towards the Upper City my clothes became heavier, raindrops raced down my face freely as I had long given up trying to wipe them off. I made a quick scan of my surroundings, checking for any sign of white armoured suits or guns. It seems the months of surveillance had paid off as I met no resistance on my way to the small entrance in the shadows of one of the upper city’s shimmering silver towers. One more quick check, a swipe of my stolen key card and I was in.
By Kirsty Macleod3 years ago in Futurism