He was agitated. His foot tapping furiously on the floor. Sweat beads racing down his face as he looked up nervously at the giant clock in front of him. Quarter to two. His time is almost up, if he doesn’t think of something now it’ll be too late!
He looked around him for support but everyone was looking at him with disdain.
He grabbed the armrest with shaking sweaty hands and slowly got up. The door is right in front of him, completely open!
“Mr Swanson, the doctor is ready for you now”
It’s too late. The needle is coming
About the Creator
Mohammed Darasi
I write fiction, poetry and occasional articles about interesting topics. I recently created a website (just because) which I will be posting my writing in (among other things). it would be great if you check it out. https://mindpit.co.uk/
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The End
As the missile was coming down, Mike stood there watching. His arms flailed by his side and the weapon dropped to the ground. He thought about what got him here; Elena encouraging him to go and save the world. Where is she now? Buried, along with the rest of Britannica’s citizens.
By Mohammed Darasiabout a year ago in Fiction
Bless Me Father for I Have Sinned
So, here’s me sitting on the 7b bus heading into town. I shouldn’t be on the bus. I don’t want to be on the bus. I should be on a bike, legs pumping like pistons. The freedom of the open road. Directions where the tyres press, as the poet said.
By Brendan Donaghy2 days ago in Humor
Comments (1)
Uh oh. Not THE NEEDLE 😮