Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Flat (Prompt Fiction)

Found on Google Images. I own nothing.


PROMPT FICTION SNIPPET


Flat.

Like a pancake. Like my beating heart. Like the way Mark Cutter looked when Darcy Jones told him that she wouldn’t go out with a loser like him.

Perfectly flat.

Two-dimensional. Like a cracker, salted and unsalted. Two slices of bread, like the sandwich that Karen gave Miles for lunch last weekend.

Really, really, flat.

Steam-rolled all nice. Like my cake. Like Jenny Marco’s chest as those rude boys just had to point it out because she refused AnnaMarie’s initiation offer.

Flat.

What I really am, when I stand here and see everything and say absolutely…nothing.

(c) Sara Harricharan

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