Friday, 24 July 2015

Flash fiction 13: Strokes


Well, it's Friday again, so it's time to write with JD Mader over at his home, Unemployed Imagination - www.jdmader.com/2015/06/2-minutes-go. The idea is to write for 2 minutes - some people write longer - and you just go for it, without looking back and editing. Head over to play or just read. Have a great weekend! :) This is the third piece I wrote.


Strokes

Colour. I race through colours, all of them – a dipping stream of dizzying brushstrokes zipping the majestic. Me. Just me. I am not you and neither are you me. I used to be an extension, an extra limb, a twin almost to your individuality. The echo of your words, the agreement of your thoughts, dressing in your gawky style. Looking up to you in mind and height. My idea of happiness, for you brought me this.

Skipping on the chalk lines, calling out the purple numbers drawn in curls of magic. Our feet crossing, uncrossing, jumping, stasis. Giggles. And buttercups. Those curved buckets of lemon lips and we did kiss them, but only when the daisies couldn’t see. Our first four-leaved clover, seemingly left by the whitest, brightest unicorn in the land.

Only from the other; the other world. The lies of our dreams. Fantasies worn too tightly, falling loose as we found ourselves in our growing pains. A curtsey to the future while we ran wild, chasing time itself, even as we sensed the curtain must fall one day, when the roses would cease to flood our stage with the perfume of delight.

When once upon a time faded, decay stole into this place, clouding everything in its breath. Including you, my beloved sister, wrenched from my arms before your time. I paint you here with daisies playing in your auburn hair, your elfin eyes creasing at the edges and your lips turned up in a perfect bow. Love racing through its colours. 

copyright Vickie Johnstone, July 24, 2015

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