I wrote this for a NYC Midnight short story competition. It is exactly 100 words long. Aside from the competition, it's never seen the light of day.
He signed his name and slipped the
letter into an envelope, sprinkling a few tiny grains inside, enough to kill
everyone at the police station, but not until after they had spread it. He
sealed the envelope, picked up his duffel and left, dropping the envelope in
the hotel mailbox. Crossing the street to the beach, he stepped onto the sand, into
the holiday crowd.
He waded into the water, facing the wind.
He raised the bag high and upended it. A rippled cloud of tiny grains caught
the breeze, soaring high before alighting on upturned faces and golden sand.
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