Friday, March 4, 2016

100 Words a Day 800

The final chords wailed, the band’s hair flew, the strobes flashed, and the crowd screamed. The music stopped and lights stopped, leaving the arena in darkness. Except for a single strobe that continued to flash irregularly. The roar of the crowd died down, except for what looked like a mosh pit. The universal push of bodies away from the light quickly made it evident something was wrong.


The shouts turned to screams and the crowd began fleeing from the strobe, leaving an empty space populated only by the crawling or unmoving bodies of those who had been trampled or shot.

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