Flash Fiction: Wet Wood

Wet Wood

Ok, so after seeing a million different flash fiction challenges online, I finally decided to get involved.

The brief for this one is, simply, a story of 100 words – no more and no less – and the challenge came from Chuck Wendig.

So, without further ado, here’s my story…


Wet Wood

The first sense that returned to him was smell. The damp, green odour of wet wood.
He opened his eyes but could see nothing. Β At that moment, he knew.
He fought to control his breathing as he squirmed inside the coffin, registering the sensations at every nerve-ending. A prison of rigid, dead timber softened by luxurious, elegant silk.
His hands snaked up his body toward his chest. Panic rising, his hands slick with sweat. His fingers reached the place above his heart.
No stake.
None of them knew, not even the Hunter.
He smiled. This would be a good night.

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