Here are 2 attempts at a 100 word story involving a smuggler, a belly dancer and a curse...oh, and this is Tim's posting :)
Number One
She swirled and gyrated to the sounds that seem slightly syncopated to the western ear, recognising him across the room. His twisted smile barely concealed the familiar contempt he felt for her. She danced closer, her hips and belly swaying seductively until she was within whispering distance. Bending down, she stared directly into his eyes. His smile froze into a fixed grimace as the life drained from his body. Still staring into his eyes she mouthed the last words he would see; “you were warned. You were cursed. Fool. You should not have returned and now you pay the price”.
Number Two
Labouring under the weight of the last case of contraband and carefully placing alongside the others in the shadows by the back door, the smuggler wondered if retirement would ever be possible. The dual strain of weight and anxiety grew with every consignment. With each run the chances of getting caught increased. This was number five: the average runner’s life was four. Surely the earnings would be enough to pay off the family curse. Her old life as a belly dancer was a distant memory, made more appealing by the effects of time, distance and comparison with her present.
Here are 2 attempts at a 100 word story involving a smuggler, a belly dancer and a curse...oh, and this is Tim's posting :)
ReplyDeleteNumber One
She swirled and gyrated to the sounds that seem slightly syncopated to the western ear, recognising him across the room. His twisted smile barely concealed the familiar contempt he felt for her. She danced closer, her hips and belly swaying seductively until she was within whispering distance. Bending down, she stared directly into his eyes. His smile froze into a fixed grimace as the life drained from his body. Still staring into his eyes she mouthed the last words he would see; “you were warned. You were cursed. Fool. You should not have returned and now you pay the price”.
Number Two
Labouring under the weight of the last case of contraband and carefully placing alongside the others in the shadows by the back door, the smuggler wondered if retirement would ever be possible. The dual strain of weight and anxiety grew with every consignment. With each run the chances of getting caught increased. This was number five: the average runner’s life was four. Surely the earnings would be enough to pay off the family curse. Her old life as a belly dancer was a distant memory, made more appealing by the effects of time, distance and comparison with her present.
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DeleteI likey!!
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