My entry for the Very Short Story Competition.
A lazy spy bites off more than he can chew... and meets an untimely end.
Mortician Amy Phelps stared down at the body in front of her with a clinical curiosity. The method of suicide was simple enough – an injection of air behind the ear, effective without compromising the face for recognition. Phelps nodded grimly....
As I looked in the mirror, I couldn’t believe how much I had changed since I started running. I would have to start again soon. My once-full cheeks had hollowed out, sockets in my face. The veins in my eyes were thick and ropy and made blinking...
It was on this day, two hundred years ago, that the mouth of the Earth opened. I know, because my great-great-whatever uncle had been there. In fact, he had fallen into the rift, never to be seen again. It has been a rather large point of pride...