a story under 300 words

Metallic, salty blood met her tongue as Andrea closed her mouth over the wound. Damn barbwire. She removed her shirt and stuffed it under a rock. The night air tore through her flimsy singlet. Leaves rustled and insects chirped. Something scratched at the earth. Any moment, sirens could sound. Emerging from the tree line, she

Who steals on Christmas morning? Taken, my pair of old skis and a battered snowboard with a broken binding. Stranger still, my new skis rest in the rack. Two sets of footprints run to my house. One half the size of the other. The tracks of a skier and snowboarder lead away. After putting my