Friday, August 5, 2011

Read my short story "i"

Here is a experimental Flash Fiction I did trying to do a narrative in First Person without using the word "i" but only once.

Must stop this shaking.
If she feels me shaking, she will once more awake.
Must not wake her.
Why must this deed be done?
Delaying it will only make it worse.
My blood is ice cold; this shiver runs completely through my body.
Look at her lie there.

The curtains dance in the warm summer night breeze.
Her chest rises and falls with each breath. 
Each breath my body craves to share with her.
Dread is all that fills me now.

Time has marched forward and taken the only beauty and hope in my life and viciously tore it apart.
We first met many seasons ago.
Struck up a friendship and bonded.
That unfortunately was muddled by previous commitments we both had with someone else.
So we faded away from each other.

That decision filled my life for many years with nothing but regrets: watching trees push away their withered leaves only to embrace the next season; searching and waiting until that one day when the grace of angels led me once again to meet. . . 

My love that now lies before me.
We took to each other like wild animals.
Fate brought us back together.
We must never again leave each other’s side again.
Although those Angels must be laughing at me now because what they leave me with is no choice.
This must be done.

Morning brings a golden sun that warms and evaporates the dew on the grassy path that we travel together.
Both of us knows what lays at the end of this dreadful journey.

To the river, to the willow tree, to the spot where we once again found each other and pledged our undying love and never to be separated from one another again.
She wanted to lie once more under the tree and embrace in each other’s love.
To share in the space of the wild lilies that crave the rays of sunlight that scatter through the gentle movement of the leaves.

She looks up with tears forming in her eyes. “The time is now,” she whispers for only me and the wind to hear.
Choking back her tears, her eyes now fill with a begging and a promise she knows will never be broken. “Remember me, I will always remember you.”

She is quiet and still.
For me, it is a dreadful slumber.
For her, it is no more drugs that made her vomit and cringe in agony.
The brutal pain, the shear torture, the total sickness has now ended.
She now walks with those angels that, for a second time, brought us together.

Now facing the consequences for what my tortured soul has done, one can only hope that in the end “our” third time will be the charm.

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