Flash Fiction 5

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Stinky
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Flash Fiction 5

Post by Stinky »

I sit.
I wait.
I have no choice.
No love.
Life, but no love.
My cries perhaps my comfort.
Not given to anyone.
They are mine.
My Mother gone.
A distant memory.
Warmth and comfort.
That look that says, ‘you are mine’.
That touch that comforts all ills.
No more.
No answers either.
Just my blind acceptance of what is.
And what will be.
A corner to myself.
But it is mine.
My solitude rudely crashed by loud voices.
An intrusion.
Fear and retreat are my first reactions.
Retaliation is my second.
Clutched and comforted bewilders me.
Soft voice.
Gentle fingers.
And I cannot help myself.
Paws pressing in rhythm.
Rumble from within.
Gentle fingers teasing my ears.
And I have a home.

After the Storm 2
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Re: Flash Fiction 5

Post by After the Storm 2 »

Thank you for sharing that.
The problem with a revolt against imaginary oppression is that you get imaginary freedom (Fintan O'Toole)

Gigi
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Re: Flash Fiction 5

Post by Gigi »

Thank you, that was very moving.

Joinfrance
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Re: Flash Fiction 5

Post by Joinfrance »

Just how I feel...

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