Category: Writers Block
Hi all,
What follows is a very, very short fiction piece. It's got some pretty intense imagery in places; it's not exactly violent, but if you're squeamish, watch your step.
Beyond that, I'd love to know what people think of this.
I wrote it in about ten minutes, and was very, very cognizant of the language I used. Pretty much every word is calculated for some effect or other.
*************
Where am I going?
I am on an open road.
The hour is small, the world dark. My car purrs contentedly; it is content because it cannot know its fate.
The fog around me is internal. It is bitter.
When I lose control, I fight. When I fight, I lose control.
The crash is inevitable. It tears the quiet apart.
I am trapped in wreckage. Insects begin biting my legs. Their teeth are like fire, and they hiss.
A moment later, or an hour, or a year, the insects swarm up my body. I can smell hot, spent fuel and sizzling skin. I am crackling now, wearing a burning suit of their flaming corpses. They paint me red and black. I scream.
I lose control.
Now I am in a cool place. I think the insects are gone. My head is full of cotton and I cannot move.
A pinch and a tug. Something is trying to take me apart.
Blurry words. I hear, as if through bubbles. "Extensive trauma. Eighty percent. Remove damaged tissue."
Another pinch, another tug. Something warm that flows along some part of me. The smells of roasted pork and hot iron. The world sways a little, as if I am lying on the deck of a ship. I swim away.
"The skin man."
More words in bubbles. Now my body is stiff, and I can hear a liquid chugging. Is that me?
"He's vomiting. He's choking. Get another doctor in here!"
I begin to drift, still chugging. I can taste bile and peaches and rotted meat.
I wonder, in some faraway pocket of my mind, if I am dying. I wonder what comes after. I wonder if it will be anything like what came before.
A moment later, or an hour, or a year, I am awake.
My body is whole. I am standing. There is gray as far as my eyes can see. Gray carpet of grass, gray vault of sky. there is no contrast in this place.
Except for one thing.
I am on an open road/.
Where am I going?
I like it. It's...I don't know the word, but it's great. It just is.
Nice piece. Maybe you should consider submitting it to a paying market or something.