![]() | No ratings.
Micro-narrative practice using a prompt (in italics) |
| Feathers floating helplessly through the air. A choking fragrance of cloying, ashy smoke. Blurry waves of scorching wind drawing a parched landscape. A piercing last whistle, coated in blazing crackling... and the most deafening thud. The phoenix had fallen. Will it rise again this time? |