Yard Sale of Thoughts

Happy Sunday! I had intended to post a new horror flash today, but “knowing how way leads on to way,” I wasn’t able to get that one ready today. Instead, I’m presenting a favorite flash from the past entitled, “Scurrying to Survive,” which I hope you will enjoy in anticipation for a new, haunted flash fiction next week. Cheers!

Scurrying to Survive

Hundreds of them impaled.

Fingers filthy from clay ground. Feet angled awkwardly against the surface of the earth. Skewered, red tips rise above white stakes. I run towards them, but there are quakes.

We’re going to be terminated just like termites. I move faster, but I can’t seem to reach any of the burial mounds in time.

You shake me awake. A hurtful hello. It’s dawn. I’ve been screaming in my sleep again. Something about infestation. You’re done with this shit. You’re going back to bed.

“Can’t you see it?” My tone begs you to be with me, but, I am alone in the pink stained pathway of daylight where only wetness remains. A deep dew as if the dawn forgot to wipe itself. And the noisy miner bird that won’t desist with its chuckling song of regret still lingers nearby.

I look out at the raw clay fields. The craggy stakes like tombstones. The magnetic vision that I saw as unshakeable as true north. And somehow, now, I see our invasion clearly. We are truly the unwanted insects scurrying to survive.