Jana had taken this alleyway hundreds of times. She knew every trash can and twisted fence. The shortcut would save time, leading her far from the street (where she faced cat-calls and inappropriate offers that made her shoulders shrink). The alley was her ally, her quick path to sanctuary.
Something was different this evening–invisible eyes lurked in the shadows, causing her stomach to flop and the hairs to raise on her neck.
She was wasting time. With a glance towards the busy street, Jana turned to the darkened alley.
Jana never made it home that night.
About the Creator
Bex Jordan
They/She. Writer. Gardener. Cat-Lover. Nerd. Always looking up at the sky or down at the ground.
Profile photo by Román Anaya.
Bluesky: @umasabirah.bsky.social
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More stories from Bex Jordan and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Run
My weary gray eyes dart from one dull wall to the next. The same four walls I had been staring at for the past six months. Or, at least, it feels like six months. It's hard to keep track of time when you have no calendar, no company, and aren't allowed anywhere except a dreary metal room. My eyes fall on the silver toilet in the far left corner of the room, sitting next to a simple sink. The only other piece of furniture in the room is the uncomfortable, thinly-mattressed cot I sit upon. The only change in the walls is the large metal door on the right side of where I sit. The door is always locked, except when 'they' open the smaller, doggie-door sized passage at the bottom to push 'food' and water through for me. I use the term 'food' loosely–it usually consists of bread and a few pieces of unidentifiable vegetables. When I'm really lucky, the bread is not covered in mold and the veggies are not rotten. My elaborate meal comes to me twice a day. Sometimes it might be three times, but I also might be dreaming that third time up. Of course, whoever dreams of that slop must be insane, or at least getting there. Which I'm sure I probably am.
By Bex Jordan3 years ago in Fiction
Getting Serious About Comedy (Part I)
If I were asked to remark on my life and the childhood that paved some road leading me to this point, I would have to say something about all the funny people who surrounded me for the last 26,872 days (and counting). Somewhere along that road, I became a big fan of laughter and the comedy that spawns it – and, I mean not only my own laughter, but the laughter of others, some of which I have actually been responsible for inducing.
By John Oliver Smith7 days ago in Humor
Comments (3)
Well written. I visualized your words the entire time. ❤️
well crafted :)
😢😢very sad, & very good microfiction!