It Began

It began with a whisper. Sweet nothings breathed in my ear, their meaning sent goosebumps down my neck. I pulled you closer and whispered the words back. We made love.

It ended with a gasp. Your admission told to my face, the weight of your eyes buckled my knees. I pushed you away and screamed admissions of my own. We scorched earth.

It changed with a heartbeat. Proof of our love growing inside, the life of our child transformed my mind. I paved you a path and sobbed tears of joy. We made amends.

It transformed with a cry. The birth of a person, our tangible connection entered the world. I pressed you into my soul and made a small family. We lived life.

The Horror!

“You saved my life!” The sheets shriek when Ana pulls at the pile to reveal the flushed face of her little sister.

“It was an accident, I assure you.” She drawls, dropping the sheet to cover the face again. “What are you even doing?”

The pile moves into a seated position, shifting until her little sister’s head emerges from its depths. “It’s fort time! We’re working on the blue prints. The engineering held strong until you switched on the ceiling fan and then it all came tumbling down. Bear lost a leg and Suzie may never recover but I’ve escaped unscratched and ready to build another day.”

“Right,” Ana says then starts pulling at one sheet then another, bunching them up into separate piles.

“What are you doing?” Her sister screams. She grabs at one sheet and then another, all slip through her tiny fingers. “You’re destroying my world! That’s the draw bridge – no, not the kitchens. You save my life only to take it all away. You monster! The horror! Not Bear’s tower, Bear needs his tower. All see, Ana the Horrific!”

Ana snorts and reaches for the sheet, beginning to fold. Her little sister stomps over until her feet hit Ana’s knees.

“We will avenge our lands, Ana the Horrific.” She bends low and tries to meet Ana’s eyes. “Of this we swear it.”

A head appears in the doorframe to their right; their mother’s smile is tired but still reaches her eyes. “Everything all right in here?”

Her little sister snarls and throws herself onto the carpet. “Ana the Horrific!”

“Yup,” Ana replies, meeting her mother’s eye as they both pointedly ignore her little sister. “Almost done with the laundry.”


 

Inspired by:  Cracked Flash: Year 1, Week 27

Small and Mighty

“Raise the flag!” The order comes from across the valley where my Commander’s foot rests on the corpse of our greatest enemy.

I am still out of breath from the sprint. My boots are marred with blood and bone, shrapnel bites into my side but the heavy weight of the bag across my shoulder grounds me to this cliff. I have to raise the flag.

With the flag comes true victory. Placing it is an honor bestowed upon me because of my size and strength: small and mighty. I alone climb the highest mountain and plant our emblem for the world to see.

I reach into the bag and – it’s empty. The flag is missing.

It is then that I remember the fabric draped over the trunk in the center of my tent. Set to dry after a ceremonial cleaning. My heard races, the grounds troops have turned towards my direction. They all start shouting, “Raise the flag!”

I hang my head. Small and mighty and forgetful.


 

Inspired by: Cracked Flash Year 1, Week 26

 

Allen

 “Take a step back and look.”

Written for: Cracked Flash

“Take a step back and look,” Allen grabbed her hand.  She brushed him off, again.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Charlotte said through clenched teeth.

Allen heard the same noise from before – a creaking that was indistinguishable to human ears.

“Charlotte, please. Trust me.”

The sunlight filtered through the window, lighting up the floating dust that danced throughout the abandoned building.  Charlotte watched it, transfixed.

“This building is going to collapse,” Allen warned.

Charlotte laughed. “This building has been here my entire life. I wanted to show it to you and here you are ruining it.”

Allen watched as Charlotte pressed her lips together, eyes looking everywhere but him.  His stomach tightened at her words, at the glimpse of vulnerability she rarely let slip.

The creaking made itself known, again. He knew Charlotte still wouldn’t hear it.

“My parents were married in this church,” Charlotte told the floor.  “They stood under that stain glass and said their vows.”

A gust of wind came off the mountainside; Allen held his breath and waited for it to be the final straw.  As it passed, the building still stood for now.

Charlotte walked down the aisle between the pews. She was walking too far away, he couldn’t monitor the creaking from there. He couldn’t ensure her safety.

Another step. A louder crack. The wood under her feet split into two and Charlotte’s scream cut across the abandoned building.

Allen flew.

After all the hiding, after centuries of secrets – he was in front of Charlotte before her scream could end. Lifting her higher and higher. Her head turned towards him, familiar eyes squinting in fear.

“Please, trust me,” he said, again. Only this time the words were lost amongst the rush of air.