Flash Fiction | You Don’t Love Me

biscuit

 

For a moment my heart stops.

Ottie, I say, sitting down and offering you a biscuit. Some weak recompense for the toy you so want so badly but I have no money to buy. I love you so much I can barely think about how much I love you. When I do I have to sit down. [I sit down]. I have to stop everything, including breathing. I literally can’t do anything or think about anything else. Thinking how much I love you makes my heartache worse than any break-up and my feet numb as if I’ve run ten marathons. When I think how much I love you I worry about everything because anything could be something that impacts on your happiness. How much I love you makes me want to fix the world beyond any reasonable hope. It makes me want to banish the bad guys, save the good guys and protect every new born and promise them a happy, pain free, love filled life because every child reminds me of you.

I knew children before. I knew how they lived in the present, delighted in simple things, laughed like they meant it and how that laughter went on forever. I knew that they ran with a love of running I have long forgotten and how that ability to love without boundaries said everything anyone could ever say about what was good about living. I knew that children imagined the impossible and dreamed of beautiful things and that the monsters of their nightmares could always be slain.

I loved children before. But you’ve taught me more. You taught me children aren’t archetypes for adults to gaze on for their own consolation. You are noisy and challenging and subtle, surprising and free. You have not only transformed my life entirely but raised me to a new way of living I could never have imagined before you came into my life.

Ottie looked at me, slowly munching on the biscuit and thinking about what I’d said. I smiled, unexpectedly nervous, and waited. He pushed the last crumbs into his mouth and said, the small one is nice too. And it’s half the price.

 

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Flash Fiction | To Die For

cropped-bw-selfie.jpg

You went too far this time. You took yourself to the edge and yes it was going to be an amazing shot. A 3,000 instant likes on Instagram shot. With who knows how many more as it went viral. Shared by friends of friends of friends. You with your hair blowing upwards like someone had turned you upside down. Floating as warm winds from the thousand foot drop beneath buffeted the cool air higher up, carrying each strand on its turns. Silky corn locks in the performance of a lifetime. Your smile. Those eyes. Centre stage. Spot lit by canyon sunshine. The world your back drop, adjusted to fit the frame. This would be the one that would get you noticed above all the rest. The one that’d get you the following you deserved. I can see you stepping up and over the safety barrier. Anticipation of the soon to be experienced outpouring of praise drowning out any thought for what hazards the real world might have in store.

It was going to be the best shot ever. A selfie that now no one will ever see. Your camera phone smashed to pieces at the bottom of the ravine. It’s parts all mixed with yours. The sun sets and a shadow creeps over the rock. Far below I can see your SIM card twinkle. Your hair splayed out around it.