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The Nothingness (Flash Fiction)

The trees loomed, filling a void that a heart has come to be familiar. The Nothingness of the forest trees whispered their mocking hums of appreciation. Even though they were living organisms, knowing in her heart the trees couldn’t speak, they still chatted on. The pure eeriness was distasteful to her original view of trees – she is still feeding on what they omit – but now can only feel that the oxygen which she inhales is now toxic and slowly eating away at her lungs like leaches.

She cannot remember how long she has been in this dreadful forest. The trees locked arms at their peeks, blocking out any direct sunlight. There was no possible way she could tell where they sun was at in the sky nor which direction she was traveling. A couple of times she had seen a single ray of sunlight break through the leaves. Each time she stopped her trek and she would hover in awe as if that single ray of light was her only way out.

There was no way of telling if there was a way out. The only way to track time was by counting how many times she woke up, remembering that she was still in the forest. This tactic proved more difficult as time went by. The rest of her time was spent in fear, trudging and stumbling across the forest floor in and out of consciences.

She had been followed, or hunted. Her awareness of the sound she had been hearing was getting closer, and closer. As she walked through certain areas of the forest, the trees smothered all outside air, only giving her poison for her aching lungs. The sounds she heard now were muffled, like being inside an airtight bubble. Then, the hunter let out a screech so loud that it drummed out a few droplets of blood, oozing down the side of her ear.

She began to run. Running wasn’t much useful if she didn’t know where she was running to. No matter, she kept running. Her eyes were closed most of the time. She found that, whether her eyes were open or closed, loose limbs and leaves still smacked her face, searing her skin with tiny gashes streaming blood down her dirty face. She forced her eyes tighter shut which brought a vision. The vision was breathtakingly beautiful. In the distance, she felt a throb in her head, pounding and pounding. This didn’t bother her much; the vision was just too beautiful and familiar. She felt a breeze, the warmth of sunshine, and the feel of grass under her bare feet. She couldn’t remember much after that. The light, from the sun she supposed, was so bright and warm that all feelings and visions of the forest life passed within an instant.

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An Inspiration (Flash Fiction)

“I felt inspired, I felt renewed, and I felt single. My marriage has been over for a couple of weeks that lasted eleven years. Eleven years is a long time. No kids. No major expenses; aside from the house, which she took. Hell, she took everything. The one important thing she could not take away is my pride.”

“The inspiration that hit me that day was harder than I realized. I felt like a thirty-five year old child that just won a trip to SeaWorld, all expenses paid. They were paid for me too; paid to the very last drop of single inspiration to be alone.”

“The beach was empty that day. Walking, breathing, and the ocean breeze where inspiration led. I speak of inspiration because I have never felt so empowered by it. I am not a creative man. I don’t write, draw, or paint. I am a construction manager who has just been divorced, taken a sabbatical, homeless for the time-being, and inspired to do nothing! The beach is where I’m at. One place, one inspiration, and only one thing left to do.”

“Living is an emotional thing. See that? I’m no philosopher, as you can tell, but this is a statement of fact; not opinion. Everything you do is powered by your emotions. Every decision you make is decided by the mood you are in. Take for example my marriage; or divorce. Anger was the top emotion of our marriage for the last year or so, which lead me to where I’m sitting right now, writing. No, I’m no writer, but this is one physical thing I would like to keep from my divorce. Maybe I will become everything I declared I am not. Many philosophers believe that when you make a statement, positive or negative, the adverbs don’t exist. The universe automatically doesn’t receive the fax because there are only verbs, nothing more to declare. So, everything I’ve declared I’m not is everything I will become.”

“Baggage is weight, physical or mental. I am ridding of my baggage by living more free. I am leaving all my physical baggage behind and ridding my emotional baggage on this page. My mark has been set and inspiration will now lead. I want to leave my epiphany for all to see so that someone, even if it is one single person, can learn what I have been through and a possible way to rid it. I will do it here, on this wall I sit.”

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