I have not written a short story in a very long time. It felt really good to dedicate the last few minutes of tonight to this. I might do more. 🙂
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The Moon created a small pool of light for her to sit in. A small rodent of society curled up beneath the night. The grass pricked and poked at her arms and legs. The wind carried over the sound from the city.
Even atop the mountain she could hear the complaints, the whines, the anger and frustrations we chose to pursue. With an outstretched hand she pointed at the bird fluttering around in front of her. She tilted her head and stared. Examining the carefree bird; well fed and obviously in good health. It chirped and enjoyed the breeze. The rodent girl spoke and the bird vanished. She slumped as her only audience had left her. She wanted an audience; anything that has had experience breathing would work. But she would more so appreciate an audience that has thought as well; thoughts of fiction, of fantasies, dreams and playgrounds (the never-ending kind). She would really like an audience of at least one. Still slumped, she spoke again; the same words spoken as earlier.
A moment of silence, then her world moved. A shiny hero of life strode by. The hero turned to her and stared. The rodent girl felt the weight of his stare and met his eyes. Her head tilted in confusion. They were locked for what seemed like years. She slumped again. Why would this shining veggie of society bother to hear my words? She thought aloud. The veggie sat down not too far from where the bird had been fluttering about.
He almost seemed unreal. The girl tried to speak, but her nerves closed her lips. She could not say a word. She was never scared to speak in the presence of anyone else. Fear seized her as she realized her silence may scare away her only listener. Don’t go, she wanted to scream, but there she sat in silence. Fear and nerves destroyed any hope and any chance of receiving the ears of this other soul. The grass’s touch was agonizing. How could this happen? Is this a cruel joke life offers her? Why murder the sad face, the one trying to hope? She slowly lifted her gaze to see the shiny person before her. Hatred grabbed her hand as she thought of herself. She could speak to anything and everything that wasn’t listening, but to you who came bravely into the confusion around me. She could say nothing!
Her heart forced her to stand. Head drooped , she turned to go down the mountain. To be forgotten, when he whispered, “Don’t go…”
Processing Negatives 