By Morgan LeBaige
She sits, two-and-a-half hours pregnant, beneath a Juniper tree.
The air smells warm and wet, freshly washed, but she feels her veins freezing, ice spreading towards her heart from her fingertips. She remembers how he once complimented her veins and told her she could have a career as a heroin addict. Not to be weird, he had said, and smiled at her with large, yogurt-white teeth.
She shivers, alone under the tree, looking towards the horizon. He tells her that he will take her away on his marble ship. She need only wait there until morning and hope it doesn’t sink.
Chilling tale, and nicely done covering the whole nine yards in 101 words.