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Ten Days

Ten days after the storm the strangers came. They stood, silent and still, in the town square. The people watched from behind shuttered windows. After two days the first brave souls ventured out into the streets. The strangers stared ahead. They showed no sign that they saw or heard anyone. Next day the strangers were gone. The people gathered silently in the square staring after them. Ten days after the strangers left, the sickness came.

http://www.paragraphplanet.com Jan 9th 2016

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Time Warp

Eleven, fifteen
Hours away. Time idles by
Until the hour. Flown.

Meet Up

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He was late. Not by much, just a few minutes, but she was early and so had been sitting waiting for fifteen minutes already. Plenty of time to think, to speculate on why she was there. For the hundredth time she considered leaving. She could just walk away now, send him an apologetic text saying she was sorry but something had cropped up. She definitely should do that right now, before he finally turned up.

Waiting

As she waited, she realised she knew nothing for certain about this man. All she knew was what he had told her, but she had nothing to prove any of it. She had no way to contact him except by email. No address. No phone number. She had never met any of his friends. If she’d read this story in a magazine she’d have poured scorn on it. And yet, here she was again.
Waiting.

Paragraph Planet

Long distance love, in 75 words?

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Modern Romance. Some days he would email her early in the morning, others just after eight, or maybe nine. Often it would be much later, some days not at all. There was always a reason. No internet, no data left, appointments, meetings, illness. He might find five minutes in his day to dash off a quick “hi, sorry. I’ve been busy…” Of course, she knew the real reason for his “busy-ness”. Wives were hard to fool.

Saturday

Saturday. She waits, knowing nothing will come. In her head she pleads, silent, hopeful, desperate. ‘Please, please let there be something. Just a word. Just one word. Just something. Anything.’ Silence. Nothing. No words to tease and torture her, no balm for her soul today. She sighs and turns. Her hands busy, but her eyes and mind slide back to the phone. Still nothing. Silently she curses. Stupid! Stupid! When will she ever learn? It’s Saturday.

Suspense

 

His trap is set.
Eight legs waiting on six.
Life hangs by a thread.
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