March 15, 2008

Flash Fiction #1

Posted in Writing tagged at 11:12 pm by lifelessonsfromwriting

We spend the last evening watching TV. He has Sky+, and we’ve kept the last episode of ‘Life in Cold Blood’ until now, when we’ll have at least one uninterrupted hour. It’s a good program. I might buy it on DVD if I ever have the money.

I have something of an epiphany while David Attenborough talks about the parental habits of crocodiles. I’ve loved this small, neat house since the first time I walked in the front door, the first time its unique, clean smell hit me, without ever stopping to wonder what it was that appealed to me so much. The mother crocodile bites through her babies egg, releasing it, and I decide that it’s the order I like. Not just the physical order, although the entire house is scrupulously neat (yet cozy), but the way everything within it seems perfectly settled – including the people.

Even in his moments of weakness, even when he lets his guard down (and it’s a subtle kind of guard, invisible yet opaque), Tim never becomes disordered. He is as calm and steady as a rock, an outer shell of simplicity with something far more complex inside. Like me, I suppose. I haven’t yet learned to be comfortable with the long silences that our respective personalities foster, but I’m getting there.

I try to take some of his order with me the next morning, but it becomes choppy and flies off into the far corners of my mind the closer we get to the airport. The long drive is filled with what I want so badly to say, but can’t find the words for.


I made this up as I went along and read over it once. It’s a little something to clear my head after trying to write all day (and only getting about 1,000 words done; for some reason I write far better at night than during daylight hours).


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