Ochre Idyls

Poems, Haiku/Tanka, Short Fictions

The pause gave just enough time and he knew it. He reached for his pistol, a blink in time, to see nothing. Silence. No residual trace of heat or moisture.

Curious. He'd had a lock on him. It was as if he was never there. What had he meant? File it away for someday, some other day.

  • Fiction
  • 57 words
  • < 1 min
  • June 23, 2025