When a Bastard Stares at the Sun
The sun is going to slice your goddamn face open. It's going to split it right down the middle. You are sick. This is a sick morning for you. The window is there, naked, the curtain ripped down and thrown in the corner. You did that last night. The curtain reminded you of the last dress she wore, walking away with you pleading one step behind her shadow on the sidewalk. Now there's nothing to keep you hidden from the coming daylight. You now have a new set of hours to contend with, even if you stare right at the sky-blaze and remain motionless in bed. Pretend, then. Keep your eyes open through the pain and imagine it was a bomb, imagine a mushroom cloud in the distance. Imagine her shadow burned forever on the sidewalk, her ashes just out of reach.
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Author's Note
Published at mud luscious.
Other stories by Jarrid Deaton
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Yep.
Oooh! Love this. Of course, the romantic in me goes--No, no, no! Run after her... :) Nice flash. Great economy! Glad I popped in. xo, H
Great angry stuff here. And hurt. Pulses off the page. peace...
I love this.
Big thanks, folks. Glad you dig it.
Enjoyed this piece. Works well.
Jeez, this hits hard. Nicely done.
Strong medicine. Fav.
Nice flash. Strong imagery.
Thanks for the read and comments, everybody!
Going out for coffee..you want me to get you something?
Tough stuff, man.
Rene
Strong opening line. There's a lot of pain in this. Very well done
*
Jeez, the first four sentences sting. But they also rock. Powerful stuff.
ooh! this makes me hurt. Fav abolutely
Pints of metaphorical home-brewed thank you beer for everybody. Super glad you dig it.
Good thing I didn't read this in '02, when I was going through a rough time. Might have done me in.