Swing

Horror Flash Fiction

Photo by Robin McPherson from Pexels

The rusted-out chain creaked rhythmically as Laura swung back and forth, holding a fluffy, pale green blanket. It was just after dawn and the playground was still quiet. Wood chips clung to her bare feet as she pushed off for another swing of the pendulum.

The last piles of snow were melting, and the warm air heralded an early spring.

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