Where Am I by Wayne Fowler 100 Word Dash writing prompt entry |
Last he remembered, he was on a field running toward a goalpost. Or running from something, or someone? He couldn’t focus. Everything was black. Was he a player? Was he one of those idiots who ran naked onto a field? He tried to determine his state of undress, but couldn’t move his arms or hands. His head hurt. That was all he knew. Not the outside, but inside, like a headache, but different. Then sandpaper on his face. Was this some new emergency room therapy? Not therapy – murder. Someone was suffocating him. “Oh, Whiskers, it’s only you. Good morning.”
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Wayne Fowler
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