Flash fiction: Talking with the dead

rachel-bjerke

 

I rise early and go down through the forest to your grave. Moss has grown over the stone I placed there and a snail has left a map of its convoluted journey as if it, alone, plans to return.

I sit on the ground, soft and damp with the autumn’s leaves and eat sandwiches. Egg and cress; your favourite. I tell you everything: who she is, how much I love her, why I must leave.

I listen for your arguments and tears, but for the first time I hear nothing, just the mist condensing and dripping from the trees.

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Finally this week I’m two words under my 100-word allowance (that should make up a little from last week’s over-spend). Friday Fictioneers is brought to us by the wonderful writer Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, and the picture this week is supplied by the lovely writer, Rachel Bjerke. Click here to join in with Friday Fictioneers, or here to read other people’s.

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On Tuesday my novel, Our Endless Numbered Days, was officially published in the US by Tin House.