This is something I came up with from a writing prompt from 1,000 Creative Writing Prompts by Cohen. Read it in your best noire voice!
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It was that time of the year again. Time, I’m always running out of time and now it is my time. I remember when I was just budding, the liquid of life coursing through me. Then I expanded, I grew in the sun and the warmth of summer. Not long ago, I felt it deep within me, I’m running out of time. I thought I imagined the cooling of the weather. But the more I thought about it, the more I felt it. It started with the liquid of life; it started to trickle instead of course. I felt myself get brittle, I no longer can perform photosynthesis. My sides are changing colors: purple, red, and brown. It’s not my imagination any more. I can feel it. It’s coming! Great ATP, it’s here! My death! I feel that I am barely holding AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!
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