Forget-me-not
The little hairs on my skin stand up when the cool breeze from the sea touches them. I shiver all the way down my spine and long to be in my warm bed. I am here for her, but her warm, familiar hand is only a small compensation.
The low morning sun is hurting my eyes and makes them water, so I turn my head. I see nobody else on the beach of Tacise, which reminds me of those artificial looking postcards I always loathed. The monotonous rushing of the waves is whispering in my ears and almost lulls me back to sleep. But the salt on my lips reminds me that this is a real beach, and not just a synbatec hologram. I don't dare to sleep here.
I take a deep breath to relax, for her sake. The sudden urge to vomit calls my attention to the revolting smell of - I don't know, I'm getting a headache from this - and a cramp in my belly. It's as if someone has mixed foul eggs with a leaking wastopaneer-package. Doesn't she notice this at all? I momentarily relax my hand which had clutched hers fiercely when the wave of stench assaulted me from behind. I don't let go completely, I never would. She is my anchor in this insane world.
When I realize that I can neither sit up nor turn around I begin to worry. Is there a leak of paralyzing gas? Why is there no alarm?
I squeeze her hand, desperate for any reaction and any support. My fingers grasp only thin air. She is gone.
I recognize the horrible burning that fills my nose and lungs and belly as the harbinger of the end. How could I have forgotten? Ah yes, the challenge-drug.
So, this is the last challenge of the Campaigners ... I'll miss it.
For the first time, I noticed it early when the rules were online - but I had been waiting for them for days now anyway.
At first I believed this would be the hardest of all, and perhaps it was ... but by now I seem to be in a good challenge-mood.
I just wonder why my flash-fictions always tend to turn out rather dark ...
Anyway ... if you are interested in the prompts and rules for this challenge ... or if you want to read more entries ... or if you want to vote for mine (I am number 4 this time, yay!) ... just go here.
(this was original posted first in my Livejournal, including comments)
The little hairs on my skin stand up when the cool breeze from the sea touches them. I shiver all the way down my spine and long to be in my warm bed. I am here for her, but her warm, familiar hand is only a small compensation.
The low morning sun is hurting my eyes and makes them water, so I turn my head. I see nobody else on the beach of Tacise, which reminds me of those artificial looking postcards I always loathed. The monotonous rushing of the waves is whispering in my ears and almost lulls me back to sleep. But the salt on my lips reminds me that this is a real beach, and not just a synbatec hologram. I don't dare to sleep here.
I take a deep breath to relax, for her sake. The sudden urge to vomit calls my attention to the revolting smell of - I don't know, I'm getting a headache from this - and a cramp in my belly. It's as if someone has mixed foul eggs with a leaking wastopaneer-package. Doesn't she notice this at all? I momentarily relax my hand which had clutched hers fiercely when the wave of stench assaulted me from behind. I don't let go completely, I never would. She is my anchor in this insane world.
When I realize that I can neither sit up nor turn around I begin to worry. Is there a leak of paralyzing gas? Why is there no alarm?
I squeeze her hand, desperate for any reaction and any support. My fingers grasp only thin air. She is gone.
I recognize the horrible burning that fills my nose and lungs and belly as the harbinger of the end. How could I have forgotten? Ah yes, the challenge-drug.
So, this is the last challenge of the Campaigners ... I'll miss it.
For the first time, I noticed it early when the rules were online - but I had been waiting for them for days now anyway.
At first I believed this would be the hardest of all, and perhaps it was ... but by now I seem to be in a good challenge-mood.
I just wonder why my flash-fictions always tend to turn out rather dark ...
Anyway ... if you are interested in the prompts and rules for this challenge ... or if you want to read more entries ... or if you want to vote for mine (I am number 4 this time, yay!) ... just go here.
(this was original posted first in my Livejournal, including comments)
NahiSirath se pyar krthe hai,jis par jaan hum apni nishawar krthe hai,kehne ko tho sabi Ashiq kehte hai, Play BazaarMagar Hum wo Ashiq haijo apni mehboob ki izaat k khatirhum apni Mohbbt b chupa sakte hai.Ye Ashiq ki hai nayi daastan,sun k sabi log hogaye pareshaan,mohabt ki ladayi me jeet hi gaya tha wo,apni mehbooba ko gar le aya tha wo,khusi se tho ek din beet gaya,Dusre hi din wo Late bangaya,sare barathi hogaye Aya dour ab Naye AshiQ Kapurane Ashiqo ne azamana chaha?batao kya kr sakte ho tum apni mehbooba k liye?hum ne tho Qurbaan kr di thi Jaan un k liyeSun k sawal New Satta King Ashiq hass padabola jo dard sahaa hai tumne uska waqt kam thabola hum ne tho guzari dard bari zindagi aisilo sunatha hoon Aap beethi apniun k liye my apni sari Umar guzar dikhoon k Asansu the jo rukne k intezar me guzaariisi dauraan chali gayi benaayeei hamarimagar wo ab tak b lout k na ayi.
ReplyDelete