When she came out of my tears she had been shivering. "Your tears' too cold", she'd said. And I'd taken one on my fingers and found that they were actually burning.
I never needed a thermometer to tell she had a fever.
Labels: burning, cold, fever, fiction, flash fiction, short story, story, surreal, tears, temperature
When the sail had fluttered for the first time, they had thought the winds of melancholia had returned. Chastity had frozen on her dead wings. If there ever was life before this, people sure would've been waiting for the sounds of their heartbeat. But the silence was denser than the sound.
In the eagles that came trailing the smell of mutilating flesh, they found the first signs of life.
Labels: albatross, deathh, eagle, fiction, flash fiction, flesh, life, melancholia, short story, story, surreal, wind
He pressed his fingers into her thoughts. He infused different hues of sadism into her memories. If she'd scream he still remembers her.
She had crashed into silence the last time he remembered her voice.
Labels: fiction, flash fiction, memory, sadism, scream, short story, silence, sound, story, surreal
He had loved her as the last manifestations of innocence in a world of depreciating preservatives. The smell of a few rotten nostalgias. Mutilating. Bacteria. She blinked her eyes like a child when she didn't understand a thing. And oh! For the beauty of it he'd wish she'd understand nothing he ever told or did.
When the wars called him again, all he wished to take from the town was one blink of her eyes. Carefully concealed. But this time she understood. She won't blink again like darkness would for him, evermore.
Labels: anomaly, blink, decision, fiction, flash fiction, innocence, love, peace, short story, story, surreal, war
Tender inside her wound she slipped. Still broken from the last night's fallen dreams. A few bone-dusts churned into the broth of flesh. A teaspoon of blood. A pinch of his fading memories. In this abandoned house, smelling of bearskins, alone and lost, delicacies' been waiting for her.
Tonight, Goldilock will not find the porridge that is neither too hot nor too cold.
Unforgetting
Animals - 1: Rabbit
Animals - 2: Rat
Animals - 3: ProtozoanLabels: animal, bear, fairy tale, fiction, flash fiction, goldilock, short story, story, surreal, war, wound
When she walked out of his heart, she forgot to tell him where she kept the key to their cupboard. They had designed their cupboard to be airtight. To keep their memories safe from the fungus and bacteria. It was an alternative to their own hearts.
She had taken his alternative away, forever - he thought.
This morning, she had stepped down his heart and walked into the alternative. Their cupboard.
Labels: alternative, fiction, flash fiction, heart, key, life, love, memories, short story, story, surreal
He still fumbles with his hallucinations. Even when she walks down to him, he couldn't ask her to the dance.
Labels: dance, fiction, flash fiction, limp, love, short story, story, surreal
Inquisition was a clock that tick-tocked inside his head. One night, when he dreamt of insomnia he woke up to find himself afraid of the clock. Unable to decide on how he should interpret it, he oscillated between the choice of knowledge and ignorance.
It took him a few years to realize that his inability to decide was ignorance, personified. Since then, it took him an eternity of insomnias, trying to find his way out. Never did it occur to him that the realization was his ability to know.
Labels: decision, fiction, flash fiction, ignorance, insomnia, knowledge, life, short story, story, surreal, time
I dispatched your agony on a wintry morning. Patient rust on the letter-box. Yours. People tell stories these days. That you had trapped yourself in your letter-box. Thought you deserved a prison. A cell to yourself.
"Life began from a cell," I'd told you, one day.
Labels: agony, cell, fiction, flash fiction, letters, life, rust, short story, story, surreal
When they were shifting places, she had been carrying some of his words. Accidentally, that day, some of those slipped and shattered on the floor.
They couldn't talk of their past ever again.
Labels: fiction, flash fiction, home, love, memory, past, short stories, stories, surreal, words
When the ship took him away her heart was broken. In a year, he promised to return.
"You could long for him," her friends said "Pain seldom is this sweet."
She didn't understand but right when the words were being spoken she found herself craving for chocolate-coated tears.
Labels: chocolate, fiction, flash fiction, longing, love, seed, short story, story, surreal, tears, womb