The First Gun
And still they lingered on her lips. The children. The tale of those who were lost with their fading childhood. Reproduction was an exact name. A re-creation of their childhood. A restoration of selves. A wooden plank on the river bed. Flowing. Empty.
After their mother had kissed them, they had ran outside with with the wooden plank.
After their mother had kissed them, they had ran outside with with the wooden plank.
Labels: children, fiction, flash fiction, gun, mother, peace, reproduction, short story, story, surreal, war