Jad gripped the safety restraints and smiled at the thought of the white-knuckled terror that was about to overtake the other passengers. Suddenly, their tiny craft was catapulted from the terminal with incredible velocity.
When I turned 34, I decided to write a series of short stories. The only catch? Each story had to be 34 words. 34 years, 34 words. No more, no less. These are the fruits.