If you’ve been thinking about joining in the Writing Prompt fun, don’t be shy. Jump in and join us!
I’ve been focused on my pilot and fanfic for the past few weeks, keeping to the schedule I set for myself, but I decided to stop lollygagging and write some flash fiction as well this week.
A new follower, Rinnah of Rinnah’s Place, decided to join me last week in the challenge and I am pleased to share her lovely words.
I Let Them In
I let them in, all these people now trampling over my emotions; it was I who let them in, so I can’t blame anyone. Or can I?
They said they wanted to come in or did they?
Well, at least they asked me how I was doing. And I answered them.
You see, up till now, I had perfected the art of politeness and only engaging in superficial dialogue. It seemed to serve me and the world around me well.
I would only tell people for example that I wasn’t feeling too well when they asked me where I had been for the past couple of days. I wouldn’t tell them that my blood sugar had shot to insane levels, and I’d started to feel sick and be sick; that I had developed all the symptoms of a flu without the cold and had passed out in the hospital reception when I went to see the doctor; I wouldn’t tell them that the doctor had told me I had developed diabetic ketoacidosis and warned me to stop risking my life by not taking my insulin shots while gorging myself on sugary foods.
I would say that I had a touch of the flu and decided to rest it out. It was better than trying to explain. Moreover, it wouldn’t be letting them in.
I would only smile and say, “it’s a good day after all” when they asked me why I was so excited. I wouldn’t tell them that I had won the first prize in the competition I felt I had no chance at; I wouldn’t tell them that I could now afford to pay the deposit for a house; I wouldn’t tell them that to my knowledge no one in my family had ever owned their own house. I wouldn’t tell them I had broken the jinx.
Last week I told one of them something. By the water cooler, I let out a truth close to my heart, and today I heard two near-strangers talking about matters that came from the depths of my being.
They asked me how I was doing and for once, for some reason, I decided I would tell them.
I did, and this is what I get: My innermost thoughts splashed across the invisible pages of the office tabloids.
Thank you again, Rinnah!
I should call these stream of consciousness fics as I don’t think them through and I hardly edit. This is one of the only times I don’t stress over every word. It’s nice.
I had heard their gentle knocking for some time, but the warmth of my bed continued to lull me into that semi-conscious state of euphoric bliss. There was no knowing if five minutes had passed or five hours. I danced a fine line between the dream world and the waking one, wishing there was something more to be found there. I couldn’t grasp the thread of the pleasant dream that I had been reluctant to leave, but with the sunbeams rippling in strange patterns about my room, I knew I could no longer ignore the beginnings of a new day.
I opened the window to find my friends in a spirited mood, swimming to and fro, talking in excited tones. Something was happening beyond our peaceful shoal, and they were eager for me to join them.
The Long Walk
She had always loved the early morning; the mist that hung heavy in the air, the silence that lingered while the world still slept. Fall was upon them. The leaves had turned their lovely shade of red and had fallen from the trees in pools of rosy splendor. She would purposefully walk amidst them just to hear the soft crunch beneath her feet. She generally awoke before everyone else – it was her time to enjoy her land, her time to enjoy the little things that most people took for granted.
Today was unlike most days. Today she walked with purpose, without paying much attention to those things that usually brought her joy. The mist went unnoticed, the silence, unheard, the crunch of the fallen leaves, ignored. Only the rhythmic beat of her heart, which had a unique sound of its own, was what she heard this morning as she walked the path of the sacrificial lamb.
One Small Step…
“Short? Short?” He exclaimed out of breath.
“I thought so.” The other replied nonchalantly.
“By no means was that a short jump. Look at my legs. You thought I could clear it?”
“C’mon. Just one more.”
“Tell me the truth. What’s it look like?”
The other one looked over the ledge that stood between them and their exit. “It’s just a short jump.” He smirked.
“I hate you.”
In the final days it was said that the horsemen would ride across the earth, bringing with them the scourges that would rid the world of the unworthy. What they didn’t say, or perhaps didn’t know, was that they were already living among us. A delusional state to be in, to be sure. How could one, otherwise, account for the degree of Pestilence, Famine, and War?
The stories had been altered over time, of course – human nature’s vanity changing details to suit their own purposes. It was their way of putting those seen as their subordinates in place, among so many other fallacies declared on the Maker’s behalf. So it was no wonder they were so taken aback when Death finally made her appearance. The unavoidable. The last truth. She stood at the center of her storm, admiring her work, without having placed her hand upon her blade.
Happy Writing, my friends!