Flash fiction 8: Snare

It's Friday again, which means it's time for the #2minutesgo challenge on JD Mader's website, unemployed Imagination. I wrote this, and others, for it. A friend, Ed, just liked it, so I chose it to post tonight. If you fancy writing, head over to here - www.jdmader.com/2015/05/2-minutes-go.html - cos you'll be welcome :) 

Cheers.

Snare

They hide inside, tucked away from the light. It isn’t to cheat the night or mimic the struck day, or anger the stirrings of the life in between. It’s a way to walk without motion, a means of cheating the time that can never come while the stale taste of life ekes out its path in a wintry hate. A dance upon the ashes of the men who never were. And so they hide.

It’s a chance awakening bringing them here, where the sands have long trickled out their last, lying to the waiting who urge the ending to be final. If time were to bend and hollow out, and repeat itself like a joker’s word, who could stand it? This unravelling would be the final straw, the end cut of film spiralling into flames as the players left the stage. I would hold the lighter and laugh. 

copyright Vickie Johnstone, May 15, 2015