April 30, 2010

Fingers Numb From Writing

The wet cobblestones lay silent in the mist, against the vivid glow of orange splayed across from side to side in imbrications of light. Mist billowed from across the seaside onto the narrow alleys—her nostrils filled with the ominous scent.

Her heart pounded wildly at the very thought of him—the waves crashing against the stone wall she sat upon, the wind brushing against her hair … the thought of his soft hands wiping the tears from her cheeks…

She clasped the manuscript in her trembling hands—each page tinged with a drop of tear. The cover title appeared but a blur of splattered ink on wrinkled paper, but she saw his name visibly embossed onto it.

She peered across, into the mist—there was no one there. She was alone. Alone with grief. Guilt.

In pain, tears tore across her face … down her chin—like his fingers used to…

An agonizing bemoan fought through her throat and burst into the streets, echoing into every nook and cranny. And right then and there, she knew she’d just made a big mistake. She wanted him perhaps just as much as he did—but it was all too late, she thought.

“No…,” she muttered to the wind.

She stood flimsily on her stilettos—wobbling, faltering against the torrent of frigid daggers that cut bare into her flesh—and she threw the manuscript into the roaring seas. She watched as the pieces of paper flew slowly into its melancholy depths.

She jumped off the wall and onto the cobbled streets—and then she ran—beneath the surreal glow of streetlights, through alleyways—wherever the winds took her … wherever she thought he’d find him.

Her heart pounded wildly against her chest. The wind dug deep into her skin—and a shot of pain, as she realized that snow had begun to pour into the current.

She held her arms tight—nails born into her coat and skin, but felt no such pain—and she trudged through the prevailing current of snow, frigid bodies of snow thrown at her—fiery blows to her heart—but she held on.

She’d disappeared into the mist, and the orange heat appeared merely but a pallid glow of thick clouds amidst the sheet of fog and snow—a blaze of fire, barely visible through the veil of cold, splayed across the cobbled streets. She followed that.

But it wasn’t soon before she’d succumbed to the numbness that had spread from her lips. And even the haze of white could not fight through the darkness that shrouded her eyes.

A blanket of snow lay beneath her body as she came to. Her knees were trembling—but that was only because she’d found his hands around her in a warm embrace.

She clung to him, but found only the empty feel of papers in her hands.

She stared listlessly across the sea, at the moon's pallid glow engulfed in a flurry of orange haze.

She'd been dreaming all along, she'd realized.

She looked down upon her manuscript and almost cringed at the sight. But in dire breathing from the cold air she said, "I'm not giving up just yet."

* * *

KuyerJudd (c) 2010
Photo Credit: here


  1. OMG, wow, that was Nice and beautiful and i sort of cried! Lovely!! Judd!! :) Awesum first post! :) ehhe

  2. It started abruptly, it ended abruptly, like a single episode of some whole series.

    Did I miss something?

    Nicely done.

  3. No, you didn't. I have a peculiar style of doing flash fiction, where I like to only 'show' the middle, but weave the words together so it still has a beginning and an end.



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