I give to you a continuation of The Talent in eleventy-one words...
His name was John. He grew up in a small house with his
parents and younger siblings. His life was short. There were no memories of a
wife. Or of a love interest. He did not attend school, but rather worked as
long as he could remember. Except for Sundays; church was always for Sundays.
The story ended abruptly. Painfully. I focused, somehow, on
that moment. He was hunting rabbits with his brother. He spotted some, was
waiting them out. But the rabbits ran, spooked by something. Someone. ‘Run!’ he
shouted; his brother fled. He struggled, briefly. Then a stab. Followed by
searing pain. Then nothing.
No living soul remembers him.
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