Tuesday, May 26, 2015


my attempt@ flash fiction friday #56; [inclusions]trigger: stay, kept, left, right, wrong

one in front the other, ripples of pain spreading outward from nosebridge across cheekbones, up temples+forehead, infiltrating hairline and washing over+through your entire brain each time your foot strike ground, left, like your heel smashing against your head insteada road, right, reverberating inside your thumping skull, left…keep moving, pushing through the thudding+echoing pain, forward, onward, go…
you eh know how long you walking, running, dragging, where you are anymore, just that you past where you were and must keep going for the smell of home to soothe this headache. the acrid air haunting your nostrils slowly give way to the thick, clinging scent of overripe mangoes, until forced to give way to the dry smoke and fluttering ash of bushfire. you keep going, trying not to think about what you leaving; there was no way to stay. once suspicion set in, mistrust follow, and your secrets cyah be kept for long. any man boldface enough or just wild enough to snatch at you without your come-hither setting up interaction could expose all your business with a flick of his wrist. your skirts and combined powers of selection+illusion are all that keep your truth hidden enough to make continued existence possible.
chief making geera this morning, far in the distance of the smellscape, but inescapable still. keep moving. more bushfire. eventually, a waft of mangoes again, then citrus, and you know you can autopilot the rest. tortuga not exactly close, but estate easy to sniff out for somebody like you who know the place before it had anything besides estate.
nex’ time you’ll be more careful; cyah get too comfortable, clearly; when las’ you misjudge and call-hither the wrong one? you supposed to be better than that, out here too long to mistakenly pick man already too overripe to eat…

walk good.


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