Tuesday, 10 February 2015

Flash Fiction 4: Finite #2minutesgo

Something different today. No poetry, but some short and fast fiction. This one was written on Friday for JD Mader's 2-minute challenge on his website, Unemployed Imagination. It's as I wrote it and unedited. If you fancy doing some writing on Fridays, why not check out his website. It gets that hamster huffing in your brain. Cheers :)



Finite

There’s a yesterday in the morrow, but I can’t fathom it. Shuffling through the yellowed pages, these things matter none to me. Everything finite. Everything used, forgotten, recycled, jaded. I wonder at the meaning of things with no sense. The reason to forgive it all is a joke in itself. This wandering. Of wondering. I mean where will it end? With a treasure map, a fallen hero, a harp plucking its own strings til death takes it? I stoop in this darkness among the stricken litter where the liquor man lurches, singing his midnight blues. I feel nothing for him. Who is he to me? The ghost walking at my back? Blowing this cold breeze down my neck? I forget. The urge to remember fails me as I fail myself. Who am I if I am not he? Lost on the wind in the company of these ripped-up pages, only an echo of yesterday. A taste of the tide.

copyright Vickie Johnstone

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