Posted: August 5, 2017 by J.A. Prentice in Flash Fiction
Tags: , , , , , ,


Beneath earth and concrete, the elder thing slept, dreaming of when it had swept cities aside with a swipe of a tendril and turned jungles to deserts with a glance.

The worshippers had faded away and it had fallen into a deep slumber, deprived of the adoration it needed, the power of belief and passion on sacred ground.

The bat hit the ball, the crowd roared like hungry wolves, and in the dark, the elder thing stretched an ancient and terrible limb.

This is for Three Line Tales. Thanks to Sonya for running the challenge and Arnaud Mesureur for providing the prompt photo!


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