Yesterday's theme inspired more than one story. I was tempted to post this udner the comments of the 100 Words Or Les Nessman site, but I didn't want to waste a good story worthy or recording as well as risk Michele's infamous ire.
They left the gates open, and the guards all stayed home.The mansion had never been a home. It always felt like a hideout, although the drugs sometimes made it feel like a slide under the world's microscope.
Or a prison.
"Welcome home," he muttered.
He'd been gone for almost 30 years, but his key still fit in the lock.
Maybe they switched the old lock back in the door, just for him.
He wandered around the mansion, which had become a sterile museum. Signs everywhere, saying what he'd done, where and when.
But never why.
He shrugged and left.
It was about 300 words until I played around with it a bit, dumped the section where he visits his own grave, and tore out a conversation with a guard ordering him to dismantle the lock on the door, put in the old one, and then leave.
