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·100 words·1 min
Flash Fiction Deadlines For Writers

“How are we feeling today?”

The voice, old and soft, diffused through his consciousness. Bright lights burned his eyes as he ran a dry tongue over cracked lips.

“Oh, not so good it seems. We’re gonna get you fixed up, yes we are. Just need to have some more medicine.”

He watched as the nurse poured viscous green liquid into a silver teaspoon. Her finger brushed against the bottle’s label, causing it to fall away. Underneath, etched into the glass, was a skull and crossbones. Eyes wide, his restraints rattled as a sickly sweet mint syrup slid down his throat.