Flash fiction can deal with any subject: life and death, lust and love, war and peace. The list is endless. If you are a writer, don’t think that just because flash fiction is only a few hundred words that you have to limit yourself in subject matter. You don’t.
Hello hello hello, my brother and sister bloggers, writers and Flash Fiction Fanatics. What a beautiful Sunday morning in Pittsburgh. I have a new story for you. If you would like to have your story showcased in the Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette, the most dynamic flash fiction magazine on the Internet, send me something. Just read and follow the guidelines. The submissions tab is at the top of the page.
Now for our feature presentation.
I thought I saw you last night while Paula and I made love. I closed my eyes, not wanting to remember. But for an instant you were there beneath me, your lips awaiting my kiss, your breasts pressing against my chest.
It’s bad enough I see you disappearing into crowds or driving by in the opposite direction. The other day, I nearly panicked at work when I saw you. You smiled at me and vanished, taking the form of a stranger needing help with her computer.
It’s been almost two years since you died. I watched the cancer ravage your body, turning you old before your thirtieth birthday. I had your remains cremated. I couldn’t bear the thought of the mortician trying to recreate the beauty that was you out of the emaciated frame you had become. I cried as the tide carried your ashes out to sea. We met at the beach at Montauk Point; it seemed fitting that I leave you there.
But you’ve refused to go. At first, I liked that you had remained part of my life. I took solace in sensing you lying next to me at night and waking beside me in the morning. For months, I refused to wash your pillowcase for fear I’d forget your scent.
Our friends and family worried about me. Finally, I agreed to see a grief counselor and attend a support group. That’s where I met Paula.
I’ve told her about you. Too much, I’m sure. Still, she listens and even cries with me when I can’t bear the pain. She, too, lost her husband. A boating accident four years ago. She misses him, but she seems able to move beyond her memories. I look to her to see where I might be in time.
I don’t want to lose her. I need her friendship and her affection, but I can’t expect her to remain with me if you’re there when we make love.
I thought saying goodbye at the hospital those last few days as you drifted in and out of consciousness was the hardest thing I’d ever have to do. But I must say goodbye once more.
Bio:Wayne Scheer has been nominated for four Pushcart Prizes and a Best of the Web. His work has appeared in a variety of print and online venues, including The Christian Science Monitor, The Pedestal, flashquake and Flash Me Magazine. Revealing Moments, a collection of twenty-four stories, can be downloaded at http://www.pearnoir.com/thumbscrews.htm.
–Wayne Scheer’s Revealing Moments, available as a free download at http://pearnoir.com/thumbscrews.htm
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