fff#70

late, and thus not as tightly edited as i'd like, but not terrible, my flash fiction friday #70; starter trigger:
i/she/he/they never wanted to forget anything more in her life than the last 3minutes. she had an instantaneous headache and a revelatory understanding of the expression “ignorance is bliss” when she see it because of how deep she feel in that very moment that nothing could ever be the same again. she was shook.
she eh ask for this. she eh come out for this. she come out to make some mischief, yes, but not looking for this kinna trouble when she leave the house this darknight. she want to refuse the sight, to refuse the knowledge, but cyah unsee, cyah unknow, no matter how she try to retrieve the naive belief that she know anything at all out here.
when she sneak out the house, was just to meet up with the neighbour boy she stringing along since mid-secondary school as convenient filler between suitors. her recent discovery during a passing-the-time petting session that he happen to be hung like a real-life gros lolo bring a certain extra thrill to the sneaking out this time and she thought herself in for a night of wonder, but couldn’t know how wrong she was about what kind.
you think you know the world by the time you think you big. you know what is a skyscraper, a cat, the wind, a desert, a performance…love. you understand the universe and that you cannot know all of it or even of the world, but you know enough to think you know the world enough: the sun will rise in the morning; death+taxes. until you see the unfathomable…
when she sneak out the house was just to engage in a night of what the young+free do and have always done, whether they can under their own roofs or not; a lack of obvious location never stop the inevitable. she did what the young+free do and make her rendezvous but before she reach the remains of the abandoned, derelict house, as she was cresting the small slope up to the empty doorway, she and all her intentions fall to pieces.
she feel the heat as she was walking up but, of course she would feel a slight heat; she was walking up. the night was so full of frogs+crickets she eh notice the snap, crackle, pop-popping. her mind was so on the pleasures she imagined awaited, she eh study the strange light…
when she sneak out the house she swear the wonders she would bear witness to that darknight would be of the human penile persuasion. she wasn’t expecting to see a self-contained fireball hover above the ancient tree, the tree behind the old house long before the house was new, so much just a part of the rising landscape she didn’t even think of it when she thought of the ruins. she wasn’t expecting blazing light to so clearly illuminate the tree that she could see in the vee of branch and trunk what could only be an empty skin, coiled, waiting for its owner’s return, and in the gaps of crumbling, broken walls, the neighbour boy, already waiting for her, now looking up through open ceiling to open sky in shock+awe. she wasn’t expecting the universe to expose such secrets, but how could she go back to believing only in the ordinary when she see the imaginary manifest?
she stop walking, rooted by the horror of her reality shattered. as she try to refuse the vision of eyes too aghast to process frantic messages to close, the universe eliminate all room for denial. the fire flash right through where used to be roof and was at the neighbour boy side in a second. then it seem to hover right over him and she hear him cry out, sharp, and then it was gone, up+away, trailing eerie, scandalous laughter through the night.
not a eyelash on the neighbour boy even slightly singed, but the bruised bite-mark bloom immediately.
later, she reach him home with strict instructions to forget she was ever there or the night even happen, and only later still she realise, that sharp cry was the last sound she ever hear him make.

walk good.