The evil sculptor walked among his creations, breathing the dull tang of stone. Here, a man threw a discuss. There, a girl read a book. Next to her, a horse reared up, hooves raised like fists. He was much pleased.
EVIL SCULPTOR
(rubbing his hands)
Look at you! My marble prisoners,
living like ghost flowers.
–Sarah Torribio
>>next post
See more flash fiction by Sarah Torribio HERE
Leave a Reply