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Short Fiction: A Hundred Paces
I try to keep my hand still, the apple resting on my palm, so I try not to think of how I loathe him, because the loathing and the anger make my hand shake. Oh, everybody in the village thinks the sun shines out of him…
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Carol Carman’s Writing Club Prompt: A is for Apple
Imagine an apple, or pick an apple up out of the fruit bowl. In your mind or in reality, have a really good look at it. Feel its skin. Smell it. Cut it open or bite into it. Is it firm and you worry that it’ll bring your teeth out, or is it a bit…