“He’s dead,” she said, standing up. “Can I call this in to the police, or is that too much of an inconvenience for you too?”
“I’m happy. I’d never cry.”
“Just do it already. You’ve been here long enough,” she said.
I use these four phases of the story as bullet points when I’m outlining, then I begin writing once I have a little blurb for each.
All the video feeds showed men in suits fanning out through the power plant, most armed with long machetes still stained with blood. There’s nowhere left for me to go.
I don’t know how many people had looked into the pit before they ran, but I’m sure enough of us knew that the the red glow wasn’t really sliding like I thought at first.
May God have mercy on our souls.
Death is not a place, or a person. It’s all there is.
Her sunken dark eyes vanished beneath her mangy bangs, and her lace nightgown failed to conceal the terrible thinness of her limbs. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.