Flash Fiction Exercise


I wrote this during a workshop run by Walter Mason at Ashfield Library. I was toward the tail end of a 8 month depressive episode that I have only recently come out of. I wrote it sitting next to one of my best friends in the entire world, Helen. Who kept sneaking worried glances at me.

Bed, pillow, sheets, no sleep. Sunlight, music, shuffling, no joy. Where did the sleep go? Where did the joy go? Was it ever here? I don’t know. I don’t think so. I can remember it but it’s as if it were a dream. Each moment after it’s passes it is like it is gone and never happened. Floating away like a distant memory, to be discarded with trigonometry and the year of Caesar’s death.

The light shines in my boys’ eyes, giggles errupt from my daughter’s mouth like liquid sunlight. It is warm. And now it is gone. It never happened. There has never been any yellow, just always grey. No warmth just cloistered- cold, chilling into the brain. But their is no brain. Their is no nothing. Just loss and absence.

If there is loss then there must have been something there one. Ah yes, flashes of gold and periwinkle blue. Perfect pearly teeth. And they’re gone. Buried beneath the sludge of grey.



About riedstrap

I have completed my first novel*... well third if you count the two magnificent pieces I wrote in primary school, and am really getting passionate about writing and learning about webdesign, blogging and publishing. *Since starting this blog I have in fact completed the sequel to said novel and am thinking of releasing it next year. But have also snuck in another two novels, one which I want to self publish next year, a memoir for all my fellow fifty shades of crae crae lady friends, and a flirty bit of feisty fun that will be epublished through Spice Ebooks in July 2015.

One response »

  1. That familiar sludge of greyness that sucks all the beautiful colours that make up everyday and mixes them all together into something that is familiar but unwanted. Unwanted because the mixing of colour isn’t forming something else more beautiful but something ugly, something that is heavy and something that sits on your chest making it so hard to breathe, to see the colours in life.

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