Now, why did I decide to try this whole blogging thing just one more time? Because a Terrible Mind made me do it. No, seriously, Chuck Wendig over at Terribleminds did something evil...and good. He posted this picture for his Flash Fiction Challenge, and my brain immediately started formulating a very short story. While it's not as good as some of the other entries (I loved reading them and enjoyed the different scenarios), it did help me break through a particularly nasty spell of writer's block.
And now, for better or worse, here is my entry (edited to make reading it on the web easier) - which happens to be my first blog post:
She hated life. She couldn’t let go. It was the paradox she couldn’t free herself from. The street below bent and bowed with life, breathing people in and out of the buildings that lined the busy sidewalks. Little creatures running from one place to another, never looking up, always looking down, ignoring the very things she desired. Beauty had had a place here once. Beauty would have a place here again. Just not in this endless moment…her moment.
She could feel the gray clouds skitter overhead, tumbling and rolling over each other until the sky was full of their thick, wrestling wisps. It would rain soon. The little dots below would become a sea of bumbling black covers, sometimes punctuated by a bright, rebellious hue. She had been that hue. She had burned hot and sure. She had feared the fading. The fading which never came.
The room grew restless, the bricks along the corner of the building expanding in anticipation of rain. Her corner room. Her corner window. Sometimes they came. No one stayed. The paradox shifted, righted, snapped into place. Hate them, love them, let go of them. She might remain quiet, but still her visitors could feel the war of animosity and despair. Felt, but never seen. Experienced, but never documented.
If they could only see. If she could make them. Her mistake was a purgatory of gray, a waiting maelstrom of silence. She could shout with one sad glance what she knew as truth. But they never looked up. And so she stayed in her room. She looked down at the belching and staggering of life. She turned from the ignorance that weighed on their shoulders, turned back to the agony of wanting and not having, never seeing eternal youth, only knowing her mournful heart. And waited for someone to look up.