Saturday, February 14, 2015

Bloodstained Valentine (a 400-word freaky flash fiction story) by Oren Shafir

Flash fiction suspense valentines dayI can't sleep yet. Just as I nearly nod off, something tickles the tips of my fingers, and my eyes jolt open to face the glaring red eyes of a fat fucking rat. I'm not dead, I scream. But after it scurries off, I realize I owe it a thanks for waking me. Even though, it would be so easy just to close my heavy eyes. But I can’t. I need to answer your card first. Your bloody valentine card. 

We could have gotten away together, but they took it all back and left me lying in the dirty black asphalt alone, bloody and panting like a dog. He sent them - your so-called man - but as far as I'm concerned, I won because the men he sent may have thought they took everything, but they didn't take your card.

I think about us lying together, legs entangled, pillows and undergarments everywhere, the yellow sun grazing our bodies, sleeping in each other’s arms – yes, sometimes there was even time enough for a nap. A nap? No, I can’t sleep now. I need to do something first.

I take out the bloodstained valentine.  It’s a really stupid card. Mickey and Minnie holding hands wishing on a star. You make all my wishes come true, it says. But it's a joke because you know how much I hate that mouse.

You said, I understand he’s not your favorite cartoon character, but it’s not normal how much you hate him.  He’s harmless.

But no, that’s just it, he’s not. It's what he stands for. That mouse stands for mediocrity. And that's the worst thing in my book.

Well, what makes you so special, then? you said. Above everyone and everything else, you said. What makes me special?

If you must know, the words you wrote underneath the fucking cartoon rodents on my bloody valentine card are what makes me special. Well actually the words aren’t special. In fact, they’re the most used and most cliché words known to man. But you wrote them for me. You see. I didn’t think anyone would say those words to me. Let alone you. Goddamn. Imagine that. That’s what makes me special. Downright fucking beautiful.

Cause we tried, you see. I didn’t have a thing. I had nothing. I was nothing. But I tried. I didn’t care if you were taken. I didn’t care if he was dangerous. You belonged with me.  We may not have gotten there. Not all the way. Love is dangerous and messy, but we tried.

I write the words back to you using the blood on the card. I try to anyway. I can’t finish. My arm won’t move you see. My fingers won't move. I write, I l-o-v-e… but I can’t finish. You’ll figure out the rest. And because you wrote those words, and because I tried to write them back - because I really tried - I can sleep now.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...