The sour smell of rancid water seeps through the air like a spy. It slides over the piles and through the papers. Somehow, it maneuvers through the mountains of treasured trash no human could progress. Behind them, miraculously unburied, it finds the human, the origin of the stagnation: equally infected.
December 2, 2015
50 Word Short Story: Stagnant Hoard
This entry was posted on Wednesday, December 2nd, 2015 at 11:41 am and tagged with 50 Word Short Story, Fiction, Hoarder, Short Story and posted in Fiction, Short Stories. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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