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Last Writes

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James opens the cupboard door cautiously. The last time he brought dinner to his captive, she’d nearly broken his nose by kicking at the door. Nothing. He peers carefully into the dimly lit space. The Muse is lying on her side, her unseeing eyes accusing. The lavender sock he had crammed into her mouth is stained with blood and vomit.




"Sir? I have a rather large favour to ask..."



Three months later

“More cauliflower, Robbie? Your allotment certainly is doing well this year. What’s your secret?”

Lewis shrugs, handing the basket to Laura. “Nothing special, just some organic fertiliser.”