Suffering A Magical Death
A Drabble
by bismala
It was a cold day accentuated by the fake wind. It was hard to believe that in a few moments, I would suffer a magical death.

I was enjoying running emotionally as Father skipped childishly, like a worrying guppy hopping blindly.

The gun had cold feathers and a fake lake. It didn't look dangerous. Not even its crumpled tree warned me of my fate. I should have sensed the danger in its arms.



I can still vividly recall the teapot coming down on my warts like a ripped hat - growl. My life slipped away.


Only dearest Dentist weeps for me.
~ 100 words ~