More fiction today – a little dark, but it WAS a pretty grey and depressing day today…
***
Flash, Bang, Zip
First, there was dark. And then, in an instant, light: over-bright, cliché light. The kind described in every Liftetime Made-for-TV Movie, every sappy love story. I was blinded by it until, in an instant, it winked out and was replaced by a furious flash of clips – the scenes of a life.
FLASH: I am six years old, sitting on my grandfather’s knee, staring up into hard brown eyes buried in a shriveled apple-doll face as I am told “NO!” over and over again without ever understanding why.
BANG: I am running as fast as I can, praying, begging, pleading with my Superman kite to keep rising up up up into the warm summer night air, knowing that I will just die if my kite doesn’t fly higher than my brother’s.
ZIP: I am sitting in my desk in the last row of Mrs. Levinson’s classroom, working up the courage to talk to the prettiest girl in third grade, so amazed that anyone could look that soft and good in unevenly braided pigtails.
BAM: Dark, and then light, and then PFZZZT.
BLINK: I am Evel Knievel, furiously pedaling my banana-seat bike faster and faster until I hit the ramp – “stay straight, don’t lose your balance!” – then trudging through the mile-long ride home with my freshly broken arm cradled against my body and soaking up the tears I cannot swallow down.
SLAM: Dark, and then light, and then PFZZZT.
CRASH: I am oh-so-slowly walking up to Sara Stephens in her bright and shiny yellow dress that even I can identify as a hand-me down because of the way it sloshes across the gym floor – Bobby Kennealy dared me and everyone knows you can’t cross Bobby Kennealy, so now I have to ask her to dance; I just hope no one can tell how badly I want her to say yes.
WHAM: Dark, and then light, and then PFZZZT.
POP: It is the night of the prom – oh god, the prom!
PFZZZT: Wait a minute – what is this? What’s happening? There are flashing lights, people screaming, a sharp and searing pain, and then – oddly – the smell of burnt toast. My mother is crying – her “thank you Jesus, thank you sweet Jesus” a melodramatic refrain, a skipping soundtrack to a really bad movie-of-the-week.
“Don’t worry, son, you’re going to be alright.”
FLASH: I am alive.
BANG: No more bright light.
ZIP: No more montage.
BAM: No more grandfather, kite, or pigtails.
BLINK: No more bike, yellow dress, or prom.
SLAM: Thank god.
CRASH: Another failure.
WHAM: I can’t do anything right.
POP: Next time cut with the vein…
Congratulations for a great piece being published. Had me at the edge of my seat.
Thanks so much Franclemom!! It was a little darker than I usually go – guess who gave me the idea?? 🙂
Great job 🙂 I like the transitions followed by the last line about cutting with the vein. Evocative images of childhood and things that can go wrong. Reminds one of the transient nature of life and how quickly it moves. Keep up the good work!
Thanks Aron! I really appreciate the feedback and am glad you enjoyed it… I try to post fiction a couple of times a week – hope you’ll stop by again!
Sometimes it’s those dark, gray days that bring out the super stories. Well done.
http://writegame.blogspot.com
I agree about dark days – thank you so much for the compliment, and I’m glad you enjoyed the story!