Daily writing inspired by random writing prompts. A way to cultivate a habit of spontaneous writing.
I have a mild interest in science fiction for the simple reason that it is sort of a predictor of what is to come based on reality. While most fictions miss the mark completely, some hit bull’s-eye with uncanny precision.
The most interesting of the lot, however, are those that we never see coming because they sound too ridiculous or those that are presently the case but sound like fiction.
Continue reading “Understanding Reality: An Autopsy or A Biopsy?”
The occasional chirping of crickets punctuated the otherwise dead night. He laid awake on the bare floor, naked save for his boxers.
It wasn’t just because he liked the coolness of the ground but also because it gave him a sense of closeness to mother earth.
His eyes had grown familiar to the darkness around him and he could almost make out the outline of the room if he tried hard enough. But he wasn’t trying tonight. Even though his eyes seemed fixated on the vacuum above him, his mind’s eyes were somewhere far away.
I wanted to see the world
Not captured on a camcorder
Transmitted to passive viewers,
Nor in the form of mental images
While I read about other men’s travels.
I wanted to be free.
Free to roam, free to be lost.
Listening to nature’s call
To lead me where it wills.
Tonight is the 63rd night you’ve been gone.
I try not to keep track. I try to move on and do other things like drinking myself to stupor or cutting myself. Yet those pains are dull compared to the gaping wound you left in my heart.
The nights are the worst because you are always present when I close my eyes. Then I wake up and remember you’ve been gone for that long.
I thought to come after you once, to try to make things right and live out the remainder of our days how we planned we would.
Remember?
I checked the clock by the bedside, its light glowing, almost pulsating in the dark room – a reflection of my feelings before morning. It was 3:15. I couldn’t believe it’s just been 2 minutes since I last checked.
Instinctively, I reached my hand to the other side of the bed but it met nothing save the cold empty space beside me.
I miss her.
Nights like this are always the longest. Nights when I know that by sunrise I’ll see her again.
The days he left, I cried. Yes, actual tears fell.
Continue reading “Morning Sunrise (flash fiction)”