Short Fiction

The Hive by Rania Hellal

When you read this, I will most likely be dead.

The night is biting and cold against my naked skin. The rope is impossibly tight around my ankles, set on digging its way down to the bone.

I am not sure anymore, what will kill me first;  The cold , the starved predators of the forest or my own people.

Now, before I tell you my story, I want you to know, that I am nothing like the terrible things  you might have heard about me.

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