Sometimes I forget to breathe. It’s not that I don’t want to. The air is just so heavy now. Like at the end of it all we only had sins left And they’re trying to smother the few of us that remain into non-existence. Of course I survived, heaven nor hell wanted me. I wouldn’t have pushed the button if I’d have known … I’m forgetting again. Today I saw it. Squat pale sandstone in the distance and figures bobbing in and out. The lab notes said they have a way to go back, If they’ll let me in.
Words blurred in and out of Delia’s focus. She slammed the book into her lap and glared towards the younger woman bound by ropes in the backseat.
“See, this is our problem. You never shut up.”
The woman blinked as the statement hit her but the gag prevented her from responding.
“Even now I can just hear you whining.”
The woman stared towards the slouching fabric above her despondently.
“I thought we were friends.” Delia mocked. “You know you can’t have friends in this business.”
The woman sighed.
“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Tomorrow I’ll pretend I never knew your name.”
Word Count: 100 For the always fascinating Friday Fictioneers, click the link and blue frog to read more. I realize this is a beach and not a pier that you drop bodies off but you know … artistic liberties.
You always said the kitchen was our gathering place.
“Over fine food families are saved.”
We’ve finally begun washing away the smoke gathered on your plates. Odds and ends scavenged from charred remains gather dust among piles of bills. There’s a bill for every emotion it seems but our payment for grief falls short.
In your absence we gather under your favorite tree. We try to laugh but they burn our lungs on the way out, so we stand and pretend. Maybe we believe you’ll turn the corner, picnic basket in hand. Maybe if we just squint a little harder …
She appeared in the music shop window. An enigmatic child before Christmas breathing slow circles of lust across the glass. Day after day she faded in and out, inching closer to the gold plated door handles. Her rats nest hair, highlighted by shimmering grey, and clanging camping pots scared patrons away.
The day she finally slid her dirty fingers across the grand piano keys we knew. Whatever she unleashed, it was beauty the world wouldn’t be ready for.
People looked on. Phones took video. It wasn’t long before every mind became captivated.