October 16, 2017
I glimpsed a woman in flight
Her hair, a vibrant shade of crimson
The glow of a dying star danced upon her lips.
The celadon caressed bare skin.
Her arms extended in beautiful parody
Her fingertips scarcely brushed the sky,
And then she fell,
Her eyes a glaze
For the woman could no longer fly.
I once heard a voiceless man
Roman candles exploded behind his eyes
Sound was swallowed by lines on his wrist
Shadows teased the edge of his mind.
His throat blossomed in brilliant shades
And then he climbed,
His throat a tangled mess of wires
I heard the snap of his neck.
I felt the burning in her throat
The numbness spread like flames
Her pulse, a jackhammer against her collarbone
She shrieked and tore at her skin
Her body struck the floor,
Her face contorted
Her mouth a terrible grin.
I have felt tendons snap and the blood pool at their feet.
The crackle like a snap between two fingers
Beside the dying fire
And I knew then
My heart would flutter and wilt
A petal crushed
The dye a mark of crimson
My lungs scattered into ash.
YOU ARE READING
YAWP: A Collection of Short Stories
Krótkie OpowiadaniaShort stories I have written over the past five years that I may never finish-ranging from a preacher who lied about the word of God to a little girl with monsters in her basement, these are all stories I wrote myself and may never continue. In the...
