A Bit Of Flash Fiction- 1, 2, 3, 4.

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Before I begin, who wants to have a victory cry because Spiderman: Into The Spiderverse won best animated film? Anyone? *cheers* YES YES YES. you have no idea how happy I am about this. YES. YES. HUZZAH!

Also, I had a post ready. I was gonna have this great, important topic and it would be weighty and important but then I ended up writing a short short short story and decided it was good enough to be published onto here. *facesmacks*

I would have you know- it’s completely fiction. That means everything is made up.

I would also have you know that is based on something real.

Have at it!

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1, 2, 3, 4. Thud. Thud. Thud. “Sit here!” they order, waving their hand about with all the force of their position. My head pounds. No. No. No. No. I don’t want to- 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 5, 6, 7, 8. The walls seem to close in on me- I need to get out- I need to get out!

“Come on!” they yell. Their eyes are demanding and expectant. My heart beats faster, my throat feels tight, the world is blurry. 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 2, 1, 2, 3- No, no, that’s wrong. 1, 2, 3, 4, 12, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3-

“Come on!” I clutch back a shriek and shuffle to the lone chair. It’s against the wall. There’s a table in front of it. “Sit,” they demand, snatching my device to look through it for themselves. I feel robbed. 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4- the numbers are supposed to help my heart calm down. It’s still beating heavily, it still hurts, it’s being squeezed. I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be here, I’m so nervous, I can’t sit long. I want to run, I need to run, I have to run!

My feet don’t curl up like they normally do- they stiffen and flatten against the rough carpet. I can run faster than anyone here, must go, must go, must go. I don’t want to be here- I have to go!  A screen, a pen, I can’t think, I can’t speak, they don’t like me, they only want me to listen and obey, not to feel. I want to run- help, help, help! 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4. “Listen and understand.” They pull out a Bible as they talk. My heart sinks. Oh no, oh no, now I have to stay whether I like it or not, please- the walls feel even more enclosing- I’m trapped! Trapped in a jail that’s built to free people. But I’m not free to begin with. 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4. Can- want- can I go? My leg starts to bounce in my chair, and I stand up.

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” What, you’re not listening?” They jeer. “Sit down and listen!” No, no. I can’t sit back down- I need to go, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4,. “Answer the question, come on, why aren’t you answering- do you even understand the question?” 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2. I can’t talk, I can’t talk, I don’t want to talk, my heart races, my chest feels tight. I want to run, I’m gonna shriek, I can’t- I can’t be here! I can’t sit! Please, please, I didn’t know not talking was a sin. I want to go- no, no, I’m not fine, I won’t talk, please don’t make me, please. the accusations hurt and the words- hurt- and I want to go, please, no, no, no, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4,.

“Say something.” Oh no, no, no, you’ll make fun of me, you’ll mock me, you’ll laugh at me, please, no, no! I duck my head and say nothing. They keep talking, they ignore me. my foot taps against the ground- I need to go, I need to go. Maybe they have some food here, maybe- 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3- “Come on! Answer! Answer! Answer!” The words seem to echo over and over and over and over and over in my head. Here, they have some cheese, I like cheese, it’s firm and yellow and it’s 2. 2 means it’s good. 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4.

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It’s nice. I like cheese. “Answer- and you are a Bible student, really?” they say. The words swarm my head Oh, no, I can’t, I can’t. I take a bite of the cheese. I say nothing. I want to run, I want to run- I don’t belong, everyone knows that I don’t belong, I can’t sit down-

I finished the cheese. 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4. “Get into the conversation, why don’t you?” Why don’t I? Because just like that I was asked and I answered and they were mean and very mad, they are scary scary, and they wield a Bible, which makes them scarier in my opinion- no. I’m not allowed to talk, no, no, no, no, I’m not, they always say I’m wrong. 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4,  1, 2, 3, 4. I want to run, to shriek, dear kind sweet Lord please, I just want to be understood- please no.

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“Come on.” No, no, I can’t just come on, it’s not easy like that, it’s hard just to breathe and you won’t– no, please, no, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4. I stand up. I walk around and stretch. They don’t like this, they give me dirty looks, I know. they told me I should sit down properly and pay attention but I can’t do either and most definitely not in that particular order, no, please, please! 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4.

“So what can we take from this?” they say. I want to take away. I want to take myself away and never come back. They don’t like me, they just look at me wrong-

I see a widow is open, the windowsill lined with snow. It’s such a long way down.

But the window is open.

“Are you alright?” They do not ask, but someone does.

“I’m fine.” 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4.

1, 2, 3-

life is a highway, Jo

 

 

P.S. That mighta been sad.

Mighta not.

Either way, sorry.

 

 

 

 

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