Sherbet the burlesque clown ran
for his life, chased by two blurry figures cackling in the night. There was
little hope for escape, as his opaque makeup streamed down his face onto the
pavement leaving a steady white trail behind him.
Suddenly the shadows become solid
and gore down on his throat and wrists. One of them stops and furiously spits
out Sherbet's hot blood. "Adrian, don't ingest its blood!" but it was
too late for his friend. His nose blooms red and spherical, his hair frizzes
bright orange whilst his feet rupture his leather shoes. He had become...a Were-Clown.
________________
*Drabble: A short story that is exactly 100 words.
No comments:
Post a Comment