Lot Number 12

From today’s Daily Prompt

The palm reader saw violence in me. Were it mine, done to me, or a horrible secret I carried like a gift left behind at the party, unnamed. It sits there waiting in the corner for someone to open it.

She had a lazy eye, which adds credibility to a fortune teller. She made spittle by her lower lip and spoke with a rasp:

An uneven lot, scoured out by some metal claw…it left tree parts like bones, tossed aside the river rocks in the ditch, at the back of the lot…something happened there...letters on the grass, made out of spray paint, they are moving like snakes, now…spelling something…Mr. Bingley? Lot number 12.

Categories: death

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

1 reply

Leave a comment!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: