64 Word Short Story

On my walk, I must not awaken the Beast.

I move through the darkness, aware of the moonlight filtering

amongst obscurities unidentifiable to the naked eye.

Nearby, the Beast whistles in sleep.

The ground is frigid.

My heart flickers.

I move forward on a river of ice and descend

into a paddock of ripples.

Light.

My father is up.

No one is snoring now.

OneTeenWriter ©

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