Pouring himself a glass of whisky, David sat back on the sofa.
The room started to grow warm.
Nina desperately clawed at the coagulated mesh of tangled silk filaments, limbs trapped, eyes begging.
‘I am so sorry David, that night in Paris … I never meant to ..’
‘Hush… my darling.’
He gently stowed the bundle in the cupboard.
envelop in a protective or comforting way.
She gyrated wildly to discordant rhythms, monochrome vignettes, silent screams.
She. Always the perpetrator. Empowered
He. Always the victim. Enslaved
She let her prey escape. Before hunting them down.
Simulated date-rape, her freakish realm.
Virtual vengeance, her ticket to sanity.
Participating Entry – YeahWrite #225 Microstories Challenge
Answer this question in exactly 42 words
“Who let the Dogs out?”