***
The half-finished building stands like a testament to the New Economy. Ivy has even begun to claim the exterior. The booming sound of house techno from the rave club reverberates down the block I just walked, my too-high heels already threatening to repay me with a blister. An Amazonian blond in a slinky dress valiantly trying to hold in surgically enhanced assets leans against the door, sucking aggressively on a lollipop. She doesn’t register the gun until just before it connects with her face. I step over her and into the crush, to find the man who designed these shoes.
5 comments:
I liked your story, but perhaps with the 100 word limit you might choose to add more story and less description of the setting. It took a couple sentences to get the story going, and then it didn't have much space to enfold.
I loved this, the night is very alive, and that sentiment 'Manolo Blahnik must die' could we add to that 'the man who designed thongs, short boots under dresses, and any other unforgiving fashion trend' your writing is clear and precise.
Good story. I enjoyed it.
I liked the description and you summarize it all very nicely in the last sentence. A tale of revenge on sadistic fashion designers! :)
the dream of every woman who has ever worn high heels for any length of time lol - I love it!
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