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 Flash fiction stories... |
| Myra swore under her breath as she stirred the pot of chicken soup on the stove. Already she could feel the unsteadiness under her feet, see the fuzzies dancing out of the corners of her eyes. Fear crashed down upon her. Not again… With a migraine in the forecast, Myra downed three store-brand Ibuprofens and washed them down with cold tap water. Then the glass disappeared from her hand. Vanished. She was holding it, drinking its contents, and then it was gone. The water, too. Not a single drop remained. This isn't real. She spun around in terror just in time to see the pot of soup fade away, also the stove, the kitchen, the house--Gone. She floated in the dark void. There were a few brief flashes of light, then nothing. She existed in this cold, formless world for an inestimable amount of time–maybe the blink of an eye, maybe eons. When she awoke in the dim bedroom, she blinked and tried to understand her surroundings. A man gasped beside her and grabbed her hand. She didn't know him, but somehow loved him. "Jeanie, my dear Jeanie. You came back to me," he cried as he nuzzled his face into her hair. "You've been gone five years." She couldn't speak. Couldn't move. She wondered what would happen to the husband and son she was making soup for. Would she miss them? Would they remember her? She once asked all of these questions the last time this happened. And the time before that. Myra sighed and forced a smile for her new husband. She would survive. She would be Jeanie. She would love her husband until the next migraine. 280 words  |
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