Paper Thin

There was a corrugated tool shack in one corner, roughly the size of two boxcars side-by-side. Iris approached it and rapped softly on the metal. A strange, muffled thump came from inside, followed by a rustle.

“Hello, is anyone there?” she repeated.

Silence. She placed a hand on the door.

BAM. The door flung open and next thing Iris knew, there was a knife to her chin and someone breathing heavily above her and she was on the floor on her back and there was a weight on her chest and something hard pinching her shoulder down and her head was ringing hard, hard, hard and the blade was paper thin and she felt a tiny bead of fresh blood, warm on her neck.


Writing month, day seven, word count: 7380

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