Marbles
Pocketing the key, I press the front door closed as my eyes adjust to the shadows. The flashlight on my cell barely illuminates the living room in the childhood home I shared with my twin. My hand tingles with numbness, the heft of the marble collection we shared as children a sharp contrast to the fabric of the pillow case wrapped around my fist. Memories long repressed gnaw at the nape of my neck as I pause to focus on a framed photograph of the four of us in happier times. Shuddering, I force myself to continue to their bedroom at the end of the hall. Though I have no solid evidence, I'm certain mother and father are responsible for what happened to Bobby. "Accident-prone, my ass," I whisper to myself. My life effectively over since the day I lost my brother- my only sibling and best friend- and not wanting to live for anything life had to offer, I vowed revenge. So strong it was, fogging my every decision, dictating the direction I took in life, work and relationships. On that day all those years ago my life came to a halt, recovery eluding me at every turn since.
The hinges emit a soft squeak as I nudge open the bedroom door and hear father's snores. Mother's bulk shifts beneath the blankets as I slide my cell into my front pocket, and through the denim-tinged glow I can just make out both sleeping forms and exposed targets of sleep-rumpled hair.
This is one of my flash stories I'd been trying to find a home for. I gave up after a few rejections and figured, fuck it, might as well just put it here. Thanks for reading.
I am sorry about the rejections - but very glad to have been given the chance to read this haunting tale. I hope that he gets away with it...
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading it, EC. Rejections are part of the process, I know.
DeleteRejections are hard, even telling yourself it's just one person's opinion. I'm glad you shared this here, too.
ReplyDeleteThat last line is a wonderful hook.
Thanks Bob.
DeleteWow. You have exceptional gifts at building suspense - this is a powerful read. I'm sorry for the pain that brought this to the page, yet grateful that you brought it to the page (laptop). The best of art is made of heartache.
ReplyDeleteMuch appreciated, Rawknrobyn.
DeleteSorry to hear about the rejections. I like where this is going though.
ReplyDeletePart of the process, I know, but not patient enough to keep waiting. This is the piece in its entirety. Short and sweet. Thanks Mary.
DeleteI would have enough rejections to wallpaper a room in my house if I hadn't thrown them in the trash. I enjoyed reading it.
ReplyDeleteLove,
Janie Junebug
Thanks for enjoying it, Janie. I can't wait for the day I get enough rejections to do such a thing!
DeleteHad to pop over and see your Blog now and Wow, it was a really riveting Read! Sorry about the rejections, that's why I just Write a Blog. Those of us compelled to Write even if it never gets published or nobody reads it, have found a Home here in The Land Of Blog. *winks*
ReplyDeleteThank you, Dawn. No apology necessary as I'm sure you know that's part of it. I'm right there with you on the blog thing. This is actually one of three I currently bog what free time I have down with. Perhaps these blogs are in cahoots with my old friend procrastination to subconciously keep me from completing any actual writing?
DeleteWow, that story sucked me in and I wanted to read more. You are talented and if you read about published authors you already know they have tons of rejection slips.
ReplyDeleteThank you kindly, Jean, and thanks for stopping by.
DeleteEeek. Flash fiction is so challenging to write. Sad story.
ReplyDeleteThanks Liz. Challenging, indeed. I'm not so sure this follows what's supposed to be form, but I took a stab at it.
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