Hollowing Out

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.

The inside of the tent was dark and cold and claustrophobic. Bree rolled over in her blanket, wrapping it tightly around her shoulders. Dan, her mom's new boyfriend, whispered something on the other side of the tent causing her mom to giggle. Bree rolled her eyes and sighed, wishing that there was music to cover up the great gulf of quiet that surrounded them. Anything to muffle those kinds of on and off sounds not to mention the shaking of leaves and breaking of sticks that came from beyond the thin nylon walls.

Dan didn't seem worried about the outside noises and Bree tried not to either. He might be kind of a dork but he had taken them camping twice before and seemed to know what he was doing. Something in the air felt different this time though and it was keeping her on edge. Everything felt too close. She'd rather be asleep but her body wouldn't let her.

A long chuuuuuuuush sound like her clothes bag sliding across the tent floor caused Bree to go rigid, her blood ice. Silence thickened in its wake.


No prequels yet. Why not write one?

« Write a prequel


No sequels yet. Why not write one?

Write a sequel »

Comments (0 so far!)

  • Published 4 years ago.
  • Story viewed 3 times and rated 0 times.

All stories on Ficlatté are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 License. What does this mean?