Creative Writing, Flash Fiction

It Doesn’t Matter Really

The little emo boy running out of breath, running along the wet road outside looks like he’s late too. It’s a nice feeling when you know your not the only one. I guess you’re never really the only one. Everything has been done before, everything will be done again. So none of it matters really.

The girl who just got on the bus has no idea the back of her head is covered in green stuff. The smell is potent. I’m hoping it’s conditioner or hair grease. But some of it is moving I don’t know how normal that is. I wonder if I should tell her. Hmm. Someone has probably told her already, and if not someone else will tell her later. It doesn’t matter really.

Everyone seems to be running this morning. There’s a jogger in red, keeping up with us. We’re stuck in traffic and she’s jogging really fast. But the guy with the cigarette in his mouth, the one that we passed, haha, he’s running for this bus. He has no chance. I know it’s mean, but there’s humour in it. It’s the first thing that has made me laugh all morning. Now I cant stop smiling, thinking about it all. I feel like I need to let this laugh out, it’s beginning to choke me, but I know everyone will look, and then I’ll be all embarrassed. But who are they to judge me, they laugh in public too, I’m sure. I only have one judge, and it’s none of them.

Well, that’s taken away my laugh. I’m sure it’ll come back so it doesn’t matter really.

I think it’s a great skill to be able to stop worrying about everything, and just acknowledge life, other people around you, and analyse their actions. No, it doesn’t matter what they’re doing, nor what they think about your public laughing, or anything else, but all that you’re worrying about doesn’t matter either, not really.

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Flash Fiction, The Fine Line

A Short Walk

The bird that soars high up in the clear blue sky. The white lines painted in the ocean above us all, by the metal birds that are native to many countries now. The intense peachy glow over there above and just behind those tall buildings. Declining, taking its warmth with it. The leafless trees that show us the skeleton’s of nature. The insects singing out loud from in amongst the bushes. It’s a beautiful day. I wish I wasn’t so cold. Maybe I would enjoy it.

It might be the cold. It might be the fact that I miss him. But that’s a secret, and no ones meant to know that. Not even me. To admit such things is to accept weakness. No. It’s definitely the cold. But it might be the music. It’s that kind of music that plays loud but softly in your head phones. The music that you hear but you don’t listen to, because for some reason, everytime it is on your thoughts are louder than it. For some reason I have hit repeat 4 times. But what are your thoughts?

Think positive. That has been my life motto for the last few days. But the moment one thing looks bad, inside your mind, everything else looks just as bad too, doesn’t it. Even if its not.
Well I’m almost home now, and I don’t feel like being this honest anymore. And my thumbs are frozen. So I’ll finish this walk with this loud, silent song playing, repeated for the fifth time, and my ever louder thoughts talking to me.

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Creative Writing, Flash Fiction

A change of plan

Ellisa watched the tiny bubbles form in her mug. She was pouring hot water into her instant coffee, because she felt like it today. The smell of coffee intensified and she walked over to the window. The frost made it hard to see what was out. She pulled up the window with one arm and the sound of the morning birds flooded the room. She sighed and stared at the blue, lilac, peach and orange that shared the skies. She sighed again, and thought about the wonderful, beautiful aesthetics of the world. She picked up a tiny leaf that was frozen onto the window ledge and fingered the salient veins. The frost had veins too. Sipping her coffee she examined her free hand, and was intrigued by the veins in her own hand.
The piercing ring of her 5:35am alarm, reminding her she had 5 minutes before she had to leave for work, interrupted the silence. But she stood there at the window, decided to ignore it and went on feeling as though there was more to life then living like this.
She was a woman who like to be referred to as a girl, because she was so young at heart. Fun was her lifestyle. Despite the early rising, she had an amazing job, she got paid as though she was qualified, she was given three holidays a year and she never stayed in the UK for them. She had a beautiful, massive family and awesome friends, despite being single, and her apartment!
“There’s more to life”, she said to her self, “there’s a reason why I am here, why the earth turns the way it does, why people are born and why they die, it’s not chance. It’s not!”

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