A friend and I were looking to break a bit of a writing block a bit ago, so asked for a prompt to write something short, just a scene and the first thing that came to our heads. So RJ Scott kindly gave us the line...
The hairdresser leaned against the door.
Seemed innocent enough, but then my brain got involved.
100 Words (ish)
The hairdresser leaned against the door. He fisted his hand in the front of his shirt as he caught his breath. Had they seen him? Was he safe? He flinched at the sound of screaming and quickly turned around. There was no lock on the stockroom door, nothing to secure it.
Shit.
He stared at the door, willing it to stay closed. What were those things? His stomach turned over as he remembered the spray of blood across the white wall. They looked like normal men when they came into the salon. But then they changed, all teeth and claws as they shred and tore through person after person.
He screamed as the door was ripped open and off its hinges. His cry faded and there was only the wheeze and gurgle of blood in his throat as he struggled to breathe, and the feel of his flesh being torn away from his bones as the monsters fed.
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