theministryofshrawleywalks

Friday Fictioneers: Tinder Pit

The threat of redundancy and incompetent management and ultimately managed decline of the company I work for has left me dwelling on other things rather than writing pithy tales about dysfunctional fairy tale characters. But… Rochelle I feel the muse and am going to have a go this week. Rules are 100 words based on the picture taken by Ted Strutz, however tenuous, I don’t think it really matters, I haven’t been caught out after 5 years, maybe I’m invincible! So lets get cracking.

On My Marks…

Get Set…

Go!!!

 

Drake’s Eurobar was THE place to be on a Tinder date. The lack of locals left the bar staff perpetually flabbergasted over the number of disparate faces who passed through the bar, anonymous and en route to an erotic dalliance or a cry wank back in their apartment.

Clothing was left and disposed of; gloves on the bar, jackets on the seats, shoes in the cistern, underwear in the toilets. A cacophony of lust property; no hope of being reunited.

In the cellar, the dismembered jilted cried out with what strength they had , but the pit was deep and ultimately terminal.

There we go, a tale which went in an entirely different direction I expected it to! 100 words about a serial killer, running a bar where Tinder dates happen, who’d have thunk?

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