by J.R. Roth
Originally written as an experiment in reader expectations, Iced is a 101-word story that asks how much of a story can be created by what the reader assumes.
I raised the rusty ice pick high above my head. This time, my thumb pressed firmly against the wooden handle’s base to prevent it slipping through my grip again. It was ten past midnight, and I wanted to do this quickly and quietly. I inhaled slowly.
“Mmmph!” I grunted, slashing downward, stabbing with all my force. The metal spike struck its target and sank to its hilt.
“Damn,” I whispered, disappointed the blow hadn’t caused more damage.
“Hey, that ice machine don’t keep the ice cold, so it melts together. Use the cubed ice from this machine,” the campground manager drawled.