Her (and Me)
She sat in a small, dark, rancid corner, left to rot for all of time. Her knees were hugged tightly to her chest as she slumped her head where the two walls intersected, stringy brown hair tumbing over her shoulders. Her pointed feet were nearing a sharp right angle, encased in weathered slip-ons that looked like two gargantuan beetles. The shreds of a white beach dress hung around her, exposing mud-caked and grimy skin. I was disgusted. The weak whimsy, the audacity! I should have let her go long ago, but still in that room I permitted her stay. Why? Why did I think that part of me could be of use in the first place?
#flashfiction #story #short #mind #twist
I felt the tingling of a breath up my spine, rattling my being. "Momma?" I called to the apathetic darkness. But I was utterly alone.
the cinched tight corners
of the upturned crescent
on the face I see an imposter
plastered over hidden upwellings
those tepid surface waters
smothering chilled oceans
of frigid transparency
you have hidden
I can only dip the edge
of my smallest toe
into the shallow warmth
sensing the swirling tide
but, to closely fathom it
they have to submerge themselves
in the darkest depths
of that wicked agony
(this is an actual dream I had, slightly modified)
I stood there, hands shaking, sweat dripping, clenching ever so dearly to the weapon in my hands.
Silvery pistol, glinting from some unknown source of light in the distance.
The crunch of foliage beneath my feet ever so softly.
A hissing voice in my ear, perhaps in my mind.
I looked at the trembling form in front of me, gun unsheathed but vacant of ammo.
I knew them.
I had seen their face in my life many a time.
But I had to follow my orders without hesitation.
A trickle of sweat from my palm made the gun in my hands slick as sleet.
Muscles twitched. Fingers tightened.
The hole in his head, ever so suddenly, began to spill thick red remnants of life.
I hadn't had but half a second to process it.
Tears leaked, salty waves crashing across my mud-caked face.
Je veux être populaire
mais je ne suis pas trop sympa . . .
Je veux beacoup de l'argent
mais je ne peux pas travailler . . .
Je veux le monde en mes mains
mais peut-être je vais casser il . . .
Je veux avoir l'amour
mais je suis trop seule . . .
(I want to be popular
but I'm not likeable
I want a lot of money
but I don't want to work
I want the world in my hands
but I might break it
I want to have love
but I am too lonely)
Instead of looking down onto others, make them look up at you. You'll find that life's a lot easier that way.