fff#86

my flash fiction friday #86; trigger: write a piece inspired by another artwork and decide whether to reveal inspiration to reader before or after.

for awhile she thought it woulda just be easier to stay dead. nice+quiet, no setta rayray, a person could hear theyself think. and she like that. thinking. have plenty to ponder, all the time, ‘specially when you know as much times as she. but after awhile she feel to see how things was going and she come back around again.
figure out living all over again, in a whole new world; that was something else. but that rounds the world was more involved, things was more involved, and she get more involved. and then couldn’t stay away. them times when she dead she would just come right back, fast as she could.
las’ time she had dead she hate it. promise sheself no cremation ever again. she still never feel quite right after the flames getting in she bones like that. so she say when next she deading again she hadda make sure everything in place to avoid that bullshit. no fire nex’ time.
thing is, she didn’t expect to get so attached to being alive. she thought she was long overs the novelty of human living, that she didn’t need the drama, but as things really start to accelerate she was too in it, too involved, to just lay there, nonparticipatory, while seemingly infinite fresh possibilities await. staying dead was no longer an option. she wanted to play [sheself].
and right then was when the universe take everything away.
she had dead+bury again. on the 9th night she flex, expecting the now-familiar breathing into being, but…
nothing.
not just no thing, but nothing, absolute.
nothingness crushing she very sense of self. like a vacuum inhaling she as she struggle to inhale life.
then out of nothing, from the void.
what you feel it is at all?
she current reality is she existence apparently in a bubble protecting she from infinitely imploding nothing…and the bubble sounding kinna upset. and she did not know and thus could not say what she feel it is at all mostly because she did not know what was at all. far less what to feel about it.
steups. ingrate.
she didn’t know how to respond to that neither and didn’t feel safe guessing wild, so she stay still.
i suppose you tbought was infinite, that even though you eh do a damn thing to deserve it you was just going+keep coming back around to do not one fart for the planet but like yuhself. nevermind the state of the world, you here for your health so once you good, nothing to worry about, ent?! well, not so again!
she start to understand the type of response that might be required for continued survival and her trembling (inasmuchas the disembodied could tremble) attempt come backed by smarts acquired over plenty lives, and she get through.
it wasn’t the end of she.
but the compromise she make to save sheself not no easy play and sometimes she’s cyah take the licks just so and them times, them darknight, is when you hear she still, wailing in the wind.

inspired by several foreign films; "Los Pasos Dobles", "Tremble All You Want", "Mary Is Happy, Mary Is Happy", came together as an idea of being dead, again, and the idea did it's own thing from there, not what i intended it to do...
walk good.