Your clothes are shredded and sitting in flimsy charity bags.
Letters, turned to ash, like the empty promises they contained.
My phone, scrubbed clean of photographs.
Yet I still see you, haunting every crevice of my day.
And at night, you innocently stroll around my dreams, oblivious of my nightmare.
John Holmes is a flash writer who loves to cycle. This year, he has pieces in Fractured Lit, Paragraph Planet, Ellipsis Zine, Fragmented Voices and 101 Words. Winner of The Times (U.K.) short crime story.
Excellent.
Thanks – enjoyed trying to shrink a story.
Well crafted short story!
Thanks Geja.
Every bit as good as the roses and onion story, John!
Ha – thanks ( and well spotted ) : I think there’s a theme … ( another one in 101 Words later this week – guess the genre ).