This piece was written as part of Chuck Wendig’s 100 Words flash fiction challenge. It clocks in at 99 words, not including the title.
Marcia retraced her steps across the wet grass, and was certain she had found the exit. The cold fog of the autumn night had chilled her to her bones, and she shivered while she worked at the door before her. The handle was bent from when she had originally pushed her way in, and both she and the metal groaned as Marcia tore it open. Her bare feet battered, she could only shamble down the stairs beyond.
She had found it. With red-spattered arms, Marcia pulled herself back onto the embalming table, and closed her eyes at last.