Miranda

Miranda refused to rummage in her handbag for keys, on dark nights, at her front door. She had watched numerous horror films and knew that someone would likely creep up on you in that second that you became distracted. So, when she found herself wobbling home from parties, too nauseous to take cabs, she would grip the keys in her hand, always ensuring one chub was pointed outwards, so that it would slide into the lock with ease, when she arrived at the door. She had never contemplated that one night the keys would become a weapon, become imbedded in her attackers’ eyes.

©2013.alittlebirdtweets

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7 thoughts on “Miranda

  1. You had me with the first sentence!

  2. Morbid Insanity says:

    Awesome! Just like Byte Size Fiction: “Love the ending.” 🙂

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