#nanoseries

The Dead Playboy

The shape in the black trench coat stood at the end of the dark alley on a balmy, moonless night. The heap in front of him was the size of a small house.
There was a click as the shape flicked a lighter, and set the flame to the edge of the heap
And the heap of magazines turned into a small house sized bonfire. The smell of burning paper rent the air.
It was a symbolic gesture, but one important to him.
Playboy, his brainchild, was dead now.

It was time to give birth to the Dead Playboy.

- Prachi Percy