Death did not come easy to Julian Baxter. Then again, neither did life.
For three long days he lay prostrate on a cold tile floor, reliving precious memories and praying to a God he wasn’t sure he believed in for peace, a full bottle of painkillers just beyond his reach.
Whether reading or writing, Donna finds micro fiction to be the perfect answer to her short attention span.
A tiny pinch, rushing into purest pleasure. Paradise dripping from the tip of a needle.
Take a deep breath. Tug the tourniquet – tap a vein.
Anticipation rattles her skeleton. Thin lips unsheath a jagged smile.
One last fix. Careful now, not too much.
Euphoria balances on the precipice of damnation.
Donna J. Dotson writes short, intense pieces of fiction and creative non-fiction, but sometimes, the universe hands her pure poetry. Her Jack Russell Terrier loves her work.