An end-of-the-week post
featuring flash fiction by me
or a special guest.
This piece of flash fiction is one of mine. Hope you like it!
Footsteps like a heartbeat, too fast for one chest. Too many to be anything but bad news.
I flee, scuttling out from under the debris of the bombs, splinters from a wooden crate snagging at my sleeve. It's a warning: Safer to hide. Always safer to hide.
But my feet have already betrayed me. No choice but to move as the beat bears down on me like a freight train. Splashing ash-clogged puddles against alley walls, too fast for street mutts to do more than gnash their teeth as I pass.
I am a bullet.
A ribbon of seconds flutters in my wake, dissolving in a hungry wind.
I am running.
I am running.
Until I’m not. A hand, maybe not, grabs my ankle as I round the corner, and I crumble against the wall. I am a broken bag of bones, too bloody for air to fill my lungs for a moment. A moment too long, I know. The heartbeat is too loud, too close, and they are here. One corner, maybe two corners away.
Fingers like claws rake the dirt around me. My fingers, not giving up like the rest of me. They don’t know.
Scrabbling, digging into dirt. Dust rises in a cloud and I would choke, but my lungs are dust. My body is a bag of bones, my fingers splinters, burying me in the dirt. Maybe they do know.
My eyes don’t close, but darkness does. I am sinking into soil, swallowed, grounded.
Silent, but not quite. The heartbeat is muffled, thundering overhead, an earthquake in another world.
My fingers knew, the splintered part of me.
Safer to hide. Always.
Comments welcome :)
If you'd like to contribute a Flash Friday post, let me know in the comments or email me at katelliswrites at gmail dot com.