The Moment

Composed 5/28/15
Description: I’ve increasingly become aware that I fear this myself.

It couldn’t have been a more peaceful evening.

As the sun began its descent, its beams filtered in through the kitchen window and illuminated her mug-filled hands. She brought the rim to her lips and grimaced only slightly as she swallowed.

Tugging her knit sweater more closely to her willowed frame, she stared outside. It was so bright compared to her dim kitchen that she squinted to clearly see the clouds drifting in the sky, the trees easing back and forth in the breeze.

She was alone. And it was this thought that seized her when the pains came.

She had anticipated death; she did not fear the pain or the passing itself. No, she feared bring alone in The Moment. There was no one to witness, to hold, to say goodbye. She would just be found, gone. No one would see her, speak with her again. Her lasts were finalized, and no one was coming to whisper sweet thoughts as she transitioned into that universally Unknown Place.

So she was afraid. As the mug broke, as she crouched to the floor, as she moaned and laid down, belly up, she was lonely, and she was afraid. It seemed such a cruel fate to live so fully, to have family, to make friends, and die abandoned and alone.

She died in the dark. She died sad.

It wasn’t until then that she could see the beaming silhouette standing beside her. He wore a white cloak – heavy, hooded, and warm. He offered his hand, and she took it. She stood and looked down at The Body and started to cry. But he brushed the tears from her cheek, and she realized she had never really been alone.

Meeting

Composed 7/22/13
Description: I’ve had this story in my head for a few weeks. I’ve never really experimented with flash fiction, so this is my first attempt.  It’s still pretty stylized (can’t take the poet out of the girl). Let me know what you think!

She grabbed a cup of coffee.
She met with her client – a regular. He needed some deposits made. Discreetly.

She sat forward in a black leather chair and worked her magic. She listened to clicks and beeps – the sounds of fairy dust.
The deposit? Done. Gone. Invisible. Jamaica. Grand Cayman. China. Antarctica, for all they knew.
Something went wrong. A crack in the fire. Someone had a shield. Black screen, windows open.
She played with black magic. Found a trail, a line of disturbed ash.
She smiled. Nobody could escape the track of gifted witch.

It was hidden in plain sight. Downtown. An old comic store.
She slipped in. Bell chimes. A young man. He didn’t look up.
She put her hand on the desk. A snake’s smile. Confrontation.
His eyes? Unsurprised. Hers narrowed. Comprehension.
“You did it on purpose. Why?”
“To get your attention.”
He smiled and grabbed his cup of coffee.