Once, when Rhonda was pacing down the high street, she accidently pulled down her green umbrella, which snapped furiously over her head. She wrestled with it for some time, like one would wrestle a crocodile, trying desperately to pull it off, when, in the end, fearing for her dignity, she decided it better to walk blindly with the umbrella braced over her head as opposed to being seen struggling in the middle of the street.
And so, Rhonda continued on down the street in this manner before letting out a Wilhelm scream as she was swallowed up by a manhole.
Anthony Ward tries not to write but he just can’t help himself. He writes to get rid of himself and lay his thoughts to rest. He has recently been published in Streetcake, Shot Glass Journal, Mad Swirl, Flash Fiction North and The Cabinet of Heed.