Nothing moved in the kitchen. Chandra eased in, half-crouching, keeping her center of balance low. There was a clatter from the cupboards. Chandra spun and raised her knife reflexively. The faucet dripped softly into the sink. Chandra balanced her hand on the counter and carefully stood on tiptoes, cracking open the cabinet door with the tip of the blade.
A twiggy, black-skinned arm shot out of the garbage disposal and wrapped impossibly long fingers around her wrist. Chandra shouted and flinched, but she was held fast. Her gaze darted around and settled on the wall.
And the little electric switch.
DP FICTION #5: “Not a Bird” by H.E. Roulo
12 hours ago