SHORT STORY: Blur of Colour
I’ve challenged myself to write one piece of flash fiction per week to get myself into short story writing again. After almost a year and half of poetry, I wanna get back in the groove of writing fiction. I’ve been reading tonnes, (thanks for the suggestions pals) but now is the time to put that into action. I’m challenging myself to compose a “vignette” less than 300 words. Wish me luck friends! I’m gonna post them every Saturday (fingers crossed).
Week One: Flash 1: WC 170
Blur of Colour
The last time I saw my mother, (who was last person I ever saw) I was gasping for air. She was a blur of colour. A monstrous hand was forcing me underwater. The deep-sea laughter magnified in my head, echoed beneath the pool, touched both ends of the pool and returned back to me, milder. It was a reminder that it was all a joke and I’d be breathing again. The laughter. I surfaced for air but saw nothing. My brother greeted me by squirting water in my face. “You’d make one shitty fish,” and he shoved me back to the depths below.
We had the Super 8 Hotel to ourselves so no one would know if Randy purposely drowned me or not. The gym windows didn’t overlook the pool so while our pregnant mother was in the middle of her forty minute uphill run, my brother and I tested how close we could get before actually killing the other. Randy was much better at the game than I was.