Flash Fiction No. 62

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Oui Ja

“No,” he murmured calmly. “You don’t understand.”

Daylight squeezed through the murky panes, grey and dismal with the low hang of morning mist. She sat, motionless, in the chair. No words crossed her breath. He pursed his lips, hands deep in his pockets.

“This is why I didn’t want to do it. This is why I told you we shouldn’t play this stupid game.”

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Flash Fiction No. 61

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Red Pill or Blue Pill?

Blood spluttered from her lips as she lay sprawled across the grimy tiles, crimson blotting too pale skin. The pills sat scattered out of reach.

Her fingers feebly clasped on air. She closed her eyes, dry lips moving in silent prayer. One arm clutched about her burning stomach, she struggled to get closer to the pills, but every time she moved they seemed to get further away.

“Get up.”

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