Thick, dark, heaviness. There’s some comfort in that.
My body aches, too weak to move. Why would I want to? I’ll just lie here, in this fever hollow. I roll my head to one side. A channel opens and a whisper of cool air flows.
Liquid pools in the hollow of my neck, then spills. I sleep.
Must be daylight. I cough and groan. My chest bubbles and aches.
Then dark, punctured by two glowing green eyes. A nip on the chin.
The Dread Mistress must be fed.
Shoulda got the flu shot.
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2018)
Carrot Ranch Prompt (02/01/2018): In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that features something black and white. It could be a nun in a zebra monster truck, a rigid way of thinking, a bird in a tuxedo — be imaginative and go where the prompt leads.