les sons et les parfums

A flash fiction, written on: October 13th, 2018

She lay sprawled on the ground still and silent amongst the rose bushes. The moist and slimy air enshrouds her and permeates her skin her hair and every pore of her empty shell but she does not make response to the sensation. She stares upward and merely reminisces what little there is to reminisce, the blue sky in the morning earlier on and the blue swimming pool in school and the blue jeans of her girl friends and the blue eyes of her favorite boy. But eyes, eyes, those other open, dark eyes that were peering at her and lurking around the corner and licking at her without letting go, those eyes that looked right through her with gluttony and authority – she remembers all those, too. And it hurts. Everything hurts. Every inch of her body that they looked ache with a penetrating agony and she could not do a thing but venture to say no but they did not stop and she tried again but they were already all over her melting on to her and dripping on to her and piling on to her and she could then only reminisce the blue sky and the blue pool and blue jeans and blue eyes and all the while muttering no, no, no, no, but birds were screeching and bees were buzzing and she could not hear a thing, not even her own voice.

 

And so the beasts tasted her and chewed her up and savored each morsel of her flesh and then spat her out onto the rose bushes in discontempt. She could now only lay sprawled on the ground with her eyes blank and dress torn waiting waiting waiting while the sounds and fragrances swirl through the evening air.

.

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