Snapshot Fiction

(originally posted on Twitter @mtlottprojects)

-A thick layer of ash covered the flowers, no longer their brilliant yellow selves, and they now leaned toward the sound of distant sirens.

-A 20-foot tall spider squeezed through the tiny door of the spacecraft, took a quick glance around, and bowed regally before speaking.

-Rain drops felt more like little icicles as he turned his face up to the sky. Against the thin skin of his eyelids it was almost unbearable.

-One illuminated window stood out in the silhouetted high rise apartment like a full moon in a starless sky. He’d lived alone. He died alone.

-He shivered. She shivered. The silence shivered. Sat in an empty park on a late winter night with warm thoughts and a bitter cold reality.

-She knew how sad it would make him, but when blood flowed her tears fought to follow. He wheeled over close but couldn’t reach to lift her.

-The air moved just enough to be heard between breaths. The smell was of pine needles and distant campfires. The soil was rich, dark and ours

-There in the headlines was the name of a person she’d never heard of, but with it was a photo of a face she knew. She’d seen it every day.

-Neither the butler, the widow, chef, or anyone else on the estate was behind the premature death. He really did just slip in the bathtub.

-It had felt good to be forgotten, but someone always brought him up at reunions and forced his spirit to weave itself into that world again.

-The loving, anxious wife at the door and the warm meal on the table couldn’t save him. Nothing ruins a day like a failed assassination.

-The spots of rust on the side of the sun-faded pickup truck almost created the illusion of an ancient world map. It begged to be explored.

-“I don’t care what anyone thinks, as long as they all know I don’t care and think it’s cool,” said the gaping hole in the ass of his pants.

-She couldn’t comprehend the kind of passion that could only find relief in the pouring of one’s heart into a poem. Then she learned to hate.

-Like fat heavy raindrops, some fell in clusters and others alone, and the sky left behind was a darker one than had ever been seen. No stars

-It was gentle and strong like a song on a battlefield, sung in the absence of gunfire. We took it in deeply as if it were our last breath.

-A name was called. He waited. More names. More waiting. His heart sped and slowed with his mind as it raced into exhaustion. All alone now.

-Upon realizing that it was all just a dream she tried for a moment to fall back asleep. Then her attention was drawn to the body beside her.

-He’d jumped far too high.. Why weren’t his feet touching down yet? Everything but clouds and fears grew smaller, and the air was so cold.

-He mirrored my actions perfectly, except that his arms were folded opposite. I often mix up right and left. So does my reflection, it seems.

-She doesn’t hold my hand anymore. Not that I need my hand to be held anyway, but she hardly even looks at me. I’ve got a little sister now.

-Much like a haiku, brief and hinting at meaning, young fresh foolish love–A time passed, and legs outgrew arms. Hearts outgrew history.

-We first met on the night that the moon burst into flames and filled the sky with an unsettling light. Hello, you said. Can you see me now?

-She tried to fight it but soon fell asleep with the same sense of helplessness and finality that one falls into a clearly unrequited love.

-Tire tracks told their story up to a critical point, leaving the rest to legend and conjecture. They’d stopped. Simply and inexplicably.

-We arrived shortly after the remains of 16 billion humans had just finished being anaerobically digested by a planet they’d drained of fuel.

-The blood didn’t spread as easily as he’d imagined. It was absorbed all too quickly by the dry, spongy white bread. Just peanut butter then.

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