What follows is a flash fiction piece by Thunder Falcon, a rare and quality soul. As she explains in the foreword, Thunder took a small strand of mine and weaved an intricate and alluring world. I'm honored to be a part of a world that we can as one make.
A fellow author and acquaintance of mine, often does these little 'finish the sentence' word plays, tapping various people with certain quill tendencies. Sometimes what results, is a provocative philosophical discussion. Other times, we get a short story with various different endings. The following flash fiction piece "Flickering Reminiscence" was the result of a particularly inspiring 'word play' that Jae Bi put out that I answered. Authors are listed in order of appearance. Much thanks to Jaebi.
FLICKERING REMINISCENCE
by Jaebi and Thunder Falcon
A ray of light reaches through the blinds and gently pulls on Her eyelash.
He watches as she opens Her eyes, full and bright. As if the distance from dream to wake is as simple as stepping from one room into another.
"I leave tomorrow," He says. "After that, we may never see one another again. Tell me the thing that matters for us and for life. Tell me what it is you want me to know above all else."
She takes a concentrated breath and then says, (finish this sentence . . . ) "Now that I have chance to have it officially documented, I want it made absolutely clear that I asked you, to pick up some eggs at the store. You always remember the milk, no problem. You love milk. But you always forget the eggs, because you hate eggs. And then later claim, very innocently mind you, that I never told you to get them in the first place." She laughs making his heart grow weak. "But now I have irrefutable evidence."
The television screen flickers a moment and she smiles.
He had remembered shooting the video on the morning of her birthday. But the recorded memory of her waking up had been the real gift. Nevertheless, he vowed this would be the last day, the last time, he would ever play the tape.
"I leave tomorrow for that business trip. After I come back, we may never see one another again," he says with greater conviction.
"Oh, don't worry. I still love you, even if you don't remember anything I ever tell you." She smiles again, the light playing across her face as if she were alive.
How he wished, she were still alive.
Turning off the player, he picks up his suitcase, only half certain he will be able to break himself of the mournful habit. But as he walks out the door, he's already waiting to see her face again, if only as flickering light, playing over and over again.