After Midnight - Short story
It is 9 minutes past midnight as I jot this down.
You might be the last person to whom I might ever say something to.
I don't know what is happening. I can't define it. I cannot explain it.
But it always happens after midnight.
Worst of all, I fear tonight might be the last night.
I might not live to tell this story tomorrow. When I was alive, you might not have believed my story but by the time you are reading this, I should be dead and I hope you will at least keep your mind open when you hear this.
However like a tale it might sound like, I need you to believe me.
For my friends who know me and who have come home, you know that I write from my balcony.
I have always penned down my stories from here. Even the 2019 Man Booker came out in it's crude form here.
The first day it happened, It was roughly around 15 minutes past midnight.
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Wow! Please tell me that you're going to continue this!
I hope to:P
oh no. what is going to happen?
https://steemit.com/freewrite/@mariannewest/day-73-5-minute-freewrite-prompt-green-droplets