Jenna felt weightless as her body flew through the air. She could feel nothing, smell nothing, say nothing; her whole body was paralyzed, except her eyes. Those, she could move. Quick, fluid rotations revealed an apartment of sorts, but the lack of lighting allowed for too many shadows. The creeping light made the creamy walls look dingy and the couch she landed on, a proud flower caught from the corner of her eye, looked out of place within it.
She knew that she was going to die, just didn’t know how or when. She’d forgotten when she’d chosen the pink ballet dress for the award ceremony that the Pink Killers were still at large. She’d forgotten when she used the flat iron to straighten her dark curls that she would match their victim profile to a T.
Her eyes widened in horror as a scalpel flashed before them. She watched, silently, as a thin red line stained the pink satin on her chest. A scream gurgled within her bowels as the vision of her heart pumping in latex hands filled her sight.
If only she hadn’t missed the bus.
The picture used in the post above is the prompt for the I’m a Storyteller linkup hosted by Words in Sync. This one had a 200 word maximum.
I always welcome and appreciate concrit.