Flash Fiction

Bittersweet Memory

Somewhere In the depths of that independent bookstore; buried beneath all the cliché love stories, hidden like the treasure never to be found, was a book of me and you. A book that only I knew the whereabouts of, never to be opened again and that was for the best.

Forever and A Day.

 I kissed him. I kissed him like the sun kissed my skin on a sticky summer’s day, like he was the first drop of water to touch my lips after years of dehydration. If I was to only taste him for the rest of eternity, my foolish heart could survive.

Voices

Then the clock strikes 3am, back to square one, alone in my head again.

Did you see that? That voice in my head whispers. Can you feel that? The stabbing pain inside my chest, reminding me that I’m alive; but also giving me that lingering feeling that I die when fate decides. Those people are laughing at you. What if they are? Do I hide myself because someone doesn’t like me? Do I march with my head held high, and pretend not to care? Of course not. They’re laughing at me. The voice in my head is right, yet again. Don’t you feel sad? Three, two, one, tears. Spilled tea. Smashed plate. I’m a mistake, this is my fate. Let’s be angry, Brookly! Red. Like a bull charging for the target, tainted red. Pushing away those who care, because all I see is red and they can see blue. They didn’t understand my perspective, and they didn’t need to. Aren’t you afraid? The crippling fear that any bad will happen creeps in. Will someone I love die? Will I? Alcohol, yes, borrowed happiness! Adrenaline rushing though my body, the music runs through my veins. I’m on such a high, I can’t remember the last time I felt pain. Dancing through the night, I think that it will be just fine. Then the clock strikes 3am, back to square one, alone in my head again.

Tribute.

I am Eleven. Some would say I'm chunky. I was the one with the nice personality, the friend, the like a sister; until that boy. The boy that made me feel as if I could rip my heart out of my chest, and it’d still beat for him. Head over heels with infatuation with the boy who made me feel eleven and beautiful. Sitting at my computer, awaiting the message. Mike sent you a message. Mike is typing. Mike was making me feel like I could conquer the world. Tip away all my insecurities as if they’re used water, because I’ve found a boy. A boy that thinks I am beautiful. 

I am Thirteen. Boys aren’t that kind, but neither are girls. Differences aren’t celebrated, but it’s a cruel world. I know that I am not all the things that they say. I feel deflated and alone, but I am powering through each day. My friends combined their pocket money for a cheap bottle of Vodka, and I sit back and watch it take its toll. Is this the life I'm in for? Is this what we are supposed to do? I’m confused, I stick out but not in the good way. I stick out the way a person wearing yellow, would stand out at a funeral. I was a target for all the people who were just as insecure as me. I won’t let it hurt.

I am Sixteen. School is finished. Six years of ups and downs, learning how to love yourself, how to shield yourself from the things that they say, curling back into those insecurities that you so effortlessly tipped away at Eleven. Mike has Sarah now, and I have the world on my shoulders. Powering through, I can fight this feeling, happy for the boy that has made me feel alive, happy for the friends I have that stuck by my side, wallowing in the pity I feel for myself in this sad time.

I am Twenty. Before I knew it, that was it. Life is going so smoothly. The entire school year has blossomed into the adults we never imagined we could be. Engagements, children, new jobs, degrees, masters, moving away from mom and dad, getting our lives together. Just like we never imagined we would. Being the adults, we didn’t believe we could ever be. Until that gruesome day, the phone rings. It’s the friend I haven’t spoken to in four years, i love her all the same, but the friendship has faded. The conversation slow, but you know she’s holding something back. You can hear she’s broken, even before her voices breaks. The tears are falling, and the world is crumbling. All I can is his name. We are invincible, right? We are born to make something of ourselves, create a life and then go on. But the words resound in your head. Dead. The only thing that felt dead was my heart. Could life be so cruel? I cannot deal with the gloom. He is dead.

We all stand united as a year group, weaved in and out of the seats in the church. Spilling into the room, because we cared. Was he there? I hold the hands of those who once tried to break me and cry into the arms of those whom I love. I would never forget. We are Twenty, but our stories are just beginning. Life would never be the same. His broken parents would never heal from this pain, and neither will all of us who once saw him every day. Thank you to him for showing me the light, i was Eleven, and he was my shiny knight.