Writing Prompt Excercise — 100 Words

He huddled, pressing himself further back in the ditch, trying to stop coughing. The mud around him squished, spread easily across his face, slathered over his scalp. It masked him from their heat sensors, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt clean.

Probably before they’d landed, with their cliché promise “We come in peace.” And others: “Our technology can help you.” “There will be no damage to your planet.”

Now the sun was as much a myth as Apollo, the very air slow poison to humans. To humans, but not to those who claimed they came in peace.

Prompt from A Writer’s Book of Days by Judy Reeves



by | Mar 18, 2007

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