Flash Fiction: Unfucking A Life

Okay – bit of an odd post here: I just noticed that Wednesday’s post was (officially) my 100th post since I started this blog.  It is also, based on the renewal notice I just got, the one year mark for this blog.

So, in honor of those milestones, I am doing an extra post this week!  I am, of course, far too lazy to write a full, real post.  Instead, I am going to put in an entry I just submitted for a flash fiction contest.  Enjoy (I hope)!

The rules were simple – tell a story in a 100 words:

We’re all broken.

I don’t know much, but that I understand.

Some of us just hide better how we’re fucked up.

For years, I did.

Then the booze and pills took over again.  They took over as much as they had in the first place.

My memory burned: a face, and the quiet whisper of a voice I couldn’t quite hear.  But the eyes…those eyes always remained.

Emotion and memory, words and reality.  That face said more than any book I’d ever read.

Just how do you get it all back?

The trigger was the loudest sound I’d ever heard.

As a note of explanation: I very intentionally want the reader to read into this.  I do not want to say if it is murder, suicide or something else…  I love the concept of the literary Rohrschach Test, and this is very much intended to be one of those.

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