little sale

It’s Thursday again, which means another piece of picofiction or twitterfic or whatever it’s called these days. A story in exactly 140 characters (including spaces) today:

A hand erupted from the grave, followed by an eroded face; bone gleamed. “Shit!” Pa was right: never cut through the cemetery on Prom Night.

Ah, horny teenagers dressed in formalwear and the undead: a match made in B-movie heaven.

Yesterday Jetse de Vries bought one of my pieces of twitterfic for his picowebzine Outshine. It will be twittered in April.

Even tiny sales are good for morale.

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