Ochre Idyls

Poems, Haiku/Tanka, Short Fictions

I know your type, he said with an appraising look.

Red flag already. This wasn't looking professional. Had the matron tricked him?

A voice called out from behind him: As I live and breathe.

The voice was decidedly feminine with a pronounced southern lilt.

But you're dead.

  • Fiction
  • 47 words
  • < 1 min
  • July 04, 2025