Friday, February 1, 2008

One flash fiction piece by Shweta Narayan

when they made right
By Shweta Narayan

by the end he screamed too he wept he begged he said he would leave would leave me if only they would let us live to leave to leave each other but the wrong was done they said so warm his lips so warm on mine and wrong action was what let the monsters into the world they said this must be made right again and making right hurts you know it hurts like stones on skin and breaking bones and making right tastes like blood like blood that bubbles up from deep within and stops you breathing and it tastes like tears and sweat and snot and it hurts like your lover screaming falling not getting up never again and like your sister hiding in the house hands over her ears so she will not hear you scream for the wrong she told them about so they could make it right but making right does not ever make it better not for her and not for me and making right does not ever make the mist draw back for it wrapped closer as the men made right with fury and glee it drew closer around me around him and I saw him fade away into mist but I would not leave I gathered him to me mist he was mist soft as his touch soft as a gown of suede and silk and here I am you see a monster they say a monster with cold pale mist gathered always always around a monster who screams high in the night and perhaps the mist is what is right and the monsters in the mist are right for we are what they made when they made right when they killed us after all

Author bio:

Shweta Narayan is a writer, artist, academic, and cultural crazy-quilt. She was born in India and lived in Malaysia, Saudi Arabia, the Netherlands, and Scotland before moving to California. Shweta likes writing about lines you're not supposed to cross and what happens when you do.

No comments: