It was only the size of a cricket ball, but in his hand it felt heavier, but at the same time oddly light.

How could something so important not be heavier? Surely, if it had the power to take away life it should weigh as much as a human? He shook his head to clear away the illogicality of his thought process. It weighed what it weighed and not an ounce more.

He tried to pull out the pin from the top of the grenade but it was stiff and it seemed misaligned from the holes that kept the lever pinned to the side of the grenade. By touch he felt his way towards the mechanical truth that the lever needed to be depressed slightly so that the holes became aligned and the pin could slide straight out.

The pin had a series of circles of metal on the end, such that you might find on a keyring. He thought briefly about the meaning of that. Were you supposed to clip these onto something? Who would want a live hand-grenade clipped to any part of themselves? He imagined the grenade dangling from a set of keys in the ignition of a car. He thought it was probably his uncle’s car – that would make a sort of sense. But his uncle wouldn’t have a hand grenade, would he? No! Of course not – get on.

He realised that he had brought both hands to shield the grenade and to pin the lever in place. With a force of will he managed to slide one hand off the lever, leaving just one to secure it. He was aware that he was breathing hard and that his head was sweating. A thin sheen of sweat covered his bald head and he used his free hand to swipe the sweat away.

He tucked his knees into his chest and casually let the grenade drop into his lap. He thought about all the thinking he’d done. He thought about all the dismal thinking he’d done. And then he exploded.

                                                       **************

S410 stands for Starter for 10 and it’s a daily live-writing meditation that I do in 10 minutes. Each piece I write teaches me something. Sometimes what it teaches me is that I suck. Other times it opens up an entire universe.

Each S410 is a 1/1 original. Owners of S410 pieces will have access to a range of benefits, from story airdrops, special performances and even the opportunity to be killed in my longer fiction works.

It was only the size of a cricket ball, but in his hand it felt heavier, but at the same time oddly light.

How could something so important not be heavier? Surely, if it had the power to take away life it should weigh as much as a human? He shook his head to clear away the illogicality of his thought process. It weighed what it weighed and not an ounce more.

He tried to pull out the pin from the top of the grenade but it was stiff and it seemed misaligned from the holes that kept the lever pinned to the side of the grenade. By touch he felt his way towards the mechanical truth that the lever needed to be depressed slightly so that the holes became aligned and the pin could slide straight out.

The pin had a series of circles of metal on the end, such that you might find on a keyring. He thought briefly about the meaning of that. Were you supposed to clip these onto something? Who would want a live hand-grenade clipped to any part of themselves? He imagined the grenade dangling from a set of keys in the ignition of a car. He thought it was probably his uncle’s car – that would make a sort of sense. But his uncle wouldn’t have a hand grenade, would he? No! Of course not – get on.

He realised that he had brought both hands to shield the grenade and to pin the lever in place. With a force of will he managed to slide one hand off the lever, leaving just one to secure it. He was aware that he was breathing hard and that his head was sweating. A thin sheen of sweat covered his bald head and he used his free hand to swipe the sweat away.

He tucked his knees into his chest and casually let the grenade drop into his lap. He thought about all the thinking he’d done. He thought about all the dismal thinking he’d done. And then he exploded.

                                                       **************

S410 stands for Starter for 10 and it’s a daily live-writing meditation that I do in 10 minutes. Each piece I write teaches me something. Sometimes what it teaches me is that I suck. Other times it opens up an entire universe.

Each S410 is a 1/1 original. Owners of S410 pieces will have access to a range of benefits, from story airdrops, special performances and even the opportunity to be killed in my longer fiction works.