100 Words: Sudden

“Why’s it gotta be running?” she panted. “God, why’s it always fucking running,” she panted, her expression shifting to look rabid, wild, teeth bared.

She booked down the street, spinning around the corner, fingertips gripping the brick, turning her sharply.

Thump thump thump went her boots on the pavement.

“Clang clang clang went the trolley,” she spat, half-laughing. She swung around another corner, never seeing the thing that connected with her face; she was turning to look behind.

It never occurred to her someone would be ahead.

“Ring ring ring went the bell,” finished the woman holding the Louisville slugger.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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