The smile had more teeth to it than it should have. They were pointy; sharp. He sat behind a dune painting feverishly. Concentrating. His countenance changed, elongated teeth glistened when someone entered the beach, lackadaisically pushing toes through the sand approaching the shore believing this was the day that would be like none other, a precious day of freedom, of rest from labor.


No one knew what lay in wait.





“the prompt this week:


…the smile…”




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