Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-27905100-20170411221351

So, this is a story I wrote in about twenty minutes during a writing elective at my school.

I'm thinking of starting a Derpyspaghetti's Micropastas page just for shorter stories I've written (I have quite a few unposted ones ready), so I'm wondering how you guys like it.

Without further ado, Cock roach

I slowly step through the pitch-black hallway, my footfalls ringing throughout the echoey house. The sole light in the house portrudes from the lamp set above the table, upon which is some sort of game. I don’t know which one yet. I suppose that with a little time, it won’t matter anymore.

A cacophany of joyous laughter erupts from the table. They still haven’t noticed me yet, slinking slowly towards them. One of them shouts something unintelligible from across the room, and in a few moments, comes back holding a large bowl of… something. They each take a large handful, and shove it greedily inside their mouths, scattering crumbs and a sickly orange dust all over their fingers.

The three figures sitting around each roll a dotted square, bouncing them around the table, laughing. One playfully shoves another, and they continue bouncing the cubes. They laugh again.

A blinding flash resounds, ending the laughter all at once.

The green walls shine with a lacquer from however many years ago, the paint cracking and broken in the uncovered places. The sole light in the room, burnt out years ago, still flickers as if trying to hold onto its last scrap of life. The walls have broken out in some places, and the sole window in the house has given out and broken. I slowly crawl up a leg of the table, and on top. A half-full bowl of sickly-orange chips lie there, and three figures still sit around it. Each one’s face has gone grey with rot, and their hair sits unkempt and falling out. I bite into the chip. The people had long gone silent, and belonged to cockroaches now. 