charisstoma

Title: Fatigue
Author: charisstoma
Word count: 213

Tired. God he was tired. Exhaustion had hung her laundry in his chest, like sodden thick woolens, tired. He ached with the pull of it. Sleep wasn’t a problem, he was falling asleep almost from the time he arrived home and sat for a minute to watch the news. Yet each morning, un-replenished, he gave serious consideration to calling in to gain a day of doing nothing but resting. Even the four cups of strong coffee throughout the day barely enabled him to drive home without the danger of nodding off behind the wheel.

A low whisper, “is he asleep yet?”

“All most. Be patient. You’re always wanting to push too hard. It killed the last two sources. “

A shrug, “they weren’t very strong anyway, or young.”

“Well, this one we’re going to have to let go soon. He’s fading.”

“Can’t we just sip up the last bit. It’s the richest flavored, that last sigh.”

Shaking its head, metaphorically, “No, our killing rate has come to the notice of higher up. We’re on probation. If we lose another again, they’ll reincarnated us into something.”

A distinct ripple went through the other figure, “To be a nibbled on, instead of a nibbler.”

“Exactly. We hunt a new source after dinner, so sip carefully.”

Please excuse the double posting from 100 Word War.
Picture me cackling

216-wind_hair_scarf
http://100wordwars.livejournal.com/239296.html

Title: Wraith
Author: charisstoma
Word count: 100

The dark scarf wafted on the air like someone’s soul caught in the wind. Leon watched it, then turned to see where it had originated. The breeze’s dry cold fingers pulled at his tearing eyes. Only the ocean was in that direction, forty feet below where it beat on the sparse shoreline at the bluff’s base. ‘Perhaps it was a soul after all,’ he thought pushing his hair from his face. The buffeting slap from behind pushed him to the cliff’s edge and the scarf wrapped itself around his face. He never saw the rocky beach as he fell screaming.


217-loose_win_reward
http://100wordwars.livejournal.com/239554.html

Title: Pursuit

The pursuit was for the most part silent and he ran as if a win in this race meant his life. It did. Periodically he’d stop, resting bent over and gasping for breath. When he heard the sound of the rabble, he’d start up again pushing to stay ahead of the mob. Who knew how knowledge of him had gotten loose. The Zombies had almost won this war. There were only a few like him left that still remembered how to breath and act normal. He started off running again deciding that breathing really wasn’t necessary and neither was normal.