Friends or Not? (A Flash Fiction Piece)

Posted on by

By: Jackie DeMarco

“Just let it go already!” Teresa glares at her.

“Give me one reason why I should do that?” Ally crosses her arms over her chest in aggravation.

“Um, maybe because you’re being stupid about this? Or how about the fact that this was two weeks ago that it happened so you should just get over it now Ally, did you ever think of that?”

“I’m not getting over it, and I’m definitely never forgiving you for what you did!”

“Really?! You’re being ridiculous! Seriously, it was one time and it’s never going to happen again.” She rolls her eyes, though she knows she herself was lying.

“What, because I found out about it? Or are you just now realizing how screwed up it was for you to do?”

“You shouldn’t have even heard about it ok? No one was. And you are overreacting about the whole thing.” She looks at the other sharply.

“See, this is it! You don’t even care that what you did hurt me, acting like it didn’t even happen at all. Just stop already, I’m done putting up with your crap Teresa!” She turns on her heel before looking back at Teresa. “Don’t bother coming to my house anymore.”

With that, she walks off, away from the girl she’d thought was her best friend, bad judgment on her part. Now, sure she had friends, but she’d told Teresa everything, when her mother was in the hospital, when her father was planning on leaving. When she had to stay with her aunt because her mother had been arrested. Everything important about her had gone into the many hours of talking to her, what would Teresa do with that knowledge now? Tell the whole school?

Out With a Bang

Posted on by

By: Joseph Stallcop

It wasn’t love.

Not in the way we know it.

Love is a sparkling fireworks display on a warm summer’s eve. This was a blinding supernova amidst a sky of stars.

Love is a bright passionate flash to ignite a small kinder. This was like the striking of an eternal torch.

He wore a cross.

She, a burqa.

The fact that such a pair could even find each other is amazing.

An inseparable attraction though, now that is a miracle stronger than the ones in either book.

They knew that it was scandal. To even embrace would freeze the hearts of others. Causing disgust. Bringing disgrace.

Yet it was strong. Like the most powerful magnets, this force held tight. They held tighter. An inferno that eats away at societal bounds and vicious hate. With every cringe, the heat grew. Every scowl, a blaze was born.

But it was war. The fists of men will only clench so long before the first blow is cast. The flame they made was set below a cauldron, and soon it overflowed.

Heathens! Devils! Evil! The cries of the crowd demanded blood. Those in power gladly obliged.

Dragged into the square while the mob spat and howled, a voice boomed from the front. Show penance or die. Black and white, no grey.

Endless pools leaked as they glared at each other for a final moment, then shut. Faces grew closer. Lips held on for dear life.

A group tried to break apart the earthly bounds, to squelch the fire before it spread. It was too late. The kindle they had made had already started to rage. Soon the world would feel its warmth.

The infinite two held strong, even while the guns cocked. One last kiss, till the end.

Bang.

Shadowbound

Posted on by

By: Julia Janson

 

There are days

when the grey glow from my shadow,

that is dragged by my feet,

taunts me.

It skids reluctantly

while shackled to the sole of my shoes;

anxious to run away

as soon as the sun

flips its switch on the world.

 

I believe it would walk away…..

…If it had the choice.

 

As the shadow’s host

I often complain

that I am the one

wasting away in the shadows of another.

I travel behind my leader as their follower;

forever unable to climb

into their skin.

 

At last,

pools of darkness

consume the empty streets

and drown out all the light from the world.

This is where shadows can escape

and hide.

 

….A place where they’re free to join,

their own body of darkness….

Red-Tailed Hawk

Posted on by

By: Julia Janson

 

Sitting in the sapling

high above my head

you perch and peer

so majestically. –So red

are your tail feathers

like the Indian brush.

so dark are your eyes

towards the swallow and thrush.

 

Your talons dig deeply

into the skin of the sap’.

Below you

silver squirrels scatter

to avoid being trap.

 

I can hear you speaking

to me through my heart…..

 

How can it be

that the squirrels have evaded you

yet not me?

That I am the one entrapped here

to admire thee?

 

With your head proudly cocked

and your breast buffered high

I look at you still wondering why

you’re invisible to others’ eyes

as sidewalks are to bright blue skies.

Molded

Posted on by

By: Julia Janson

 

What is a soul, but a clump of clay?

A warm, soft, squishy sensation

between the fingers of destiny.

 

From life to death and then rebirth

a soul softens and hardens,

thins and thickens,

breaks and combines,

by the will of destiny’s fingers.

 

I have always felt the pressure

from being held under fate’s thumb

while it compresses new pains

deep into the core of my soul.

 

I have felt destiny choke me

with an angry fist

so hard

I lose bits and pieces of myself.

 

The grip of destiny can make one:

beautiful or ugly,

plain or colorful,

complete or incomplete.

 

But do we not wield the hands of our own destiny

beyond the clay walls of our souls?

Or were we molded by the gods from the earth?

Branded

Posted on by

By: Julia Janson

 

I am blind to,

the label compressed,

deep into the flesh,

behind my back.

It burns me up!

marks me,

weakens me,

scars me…

 

It serves as a parasitic kick-me sign,

for when I would walk through crowds,

that will beat me down.

 

The flesh above my wound,

continues to rise and harden,

but the pain sinks through it,

deeper and deeper,

until it is swallowed by my memory.

 

It’s there:

a part of me I cannot shed;

a part of me I cannot hide.

Still stinging;

still invisible to my eyes and tears.

I cannot see the true damage of,

what has been done to me…

but everyone else can.

 

“Why?” I ask you.

“Why was this done to me?”

“What is wrong with me?”

 

I look to the earth for the truth,

but these are answers that only,

the silent angels can give me.

 

“Who am I -really,

or what have you done to me?”

 

Like the mask worn,

upon the brander’s face,

my label has been forced upon me.

Disguising my true self;

deceiving my own skin.

Apache Tear

Posted on by

By: Julia Janson

 

A beautiful sad stone

dwells in the great dust bowl.

“Grandfather,” I ask,

“Why is it called an apache tear?”

 

No answer.

 

“Is this a stepping stone,

a trail,

a path,

that will lead out

of the great dust bowl and

into an enchanted forest of evergreens?”

 

Magna begs:

“Follow the old Indian trail

and you will find yourself

washed upon the white sandy shores

of Erin.”

 

Imbass from

the oak, air, and the sea

sing like sweet music unto me.

 

Here,

the web of life

is no dream catcher

though,

it holds one thousand nightmares hostage.

 

At last,

Dagda embraces me

with open arms.

“Know that to have come

this far means that

we shall always be one.

You shall always have my love.”

 

The destiny stone is not a myth,

it is an apache tear.

Betrayal

Posted on by

By: Taryn Lazinski

She looked into her mother’s eyes
And saw something cold and emptiness
Drained from her own exhaustion
A whirlwind of
Emotions pulled her to bed
Unable to drift off into a soundless sleep
The bed sunk down deep in to the earth
And never again did she see the daylight sky
She thinks that one day she ruined,
It all could have been different
She became two people
Until their paths have crossed
And crashed into each other’s lanes
And ended up sliding off the road
With scratching noises coming from that incident
Enough to for her to hear her world become pieces on the pavement
While shame and her hopeless soul deprived of joy
She remembers a light in her mother’s eyes
That used to be