Clocks by Cheryl Anne Gardner
October 27, 2011 Comments Off on Clocks by Cheryl Anne Gardner
You used to have to wait, wanting like a hunter, alive with wilderness and morning dew in your veins. You hated it — the waiting — but now, the card cast at your feet betrays the anticipation you once felt. The hanged man reflects back into you, a smile of idle contentment upon his face. The iridescent rainbow of your childish dreams is nowhere to be seen.
A church burns in a damp meadow.
And you have no tobacco left to smoke after the great feast.
“What is the answer?” you ask the shadows now collecting at your feet, but they too are tired of waiting — for you — and their answers are nothing but questions.
There is nothing at the end of it all, they reply, their boney fingers pointing away into the darkness just beyond your breath. Nothing, again they whisper, as their writhing vestments pull and tug at your tattered old flesh. Nothing but an alley awaiting you in the cold loneliness of the night, where time aims to mock you, drip, drip, dripping at an infernal pace from the cement walls of this life, your imaginary prison.
© 2011 Cheryl Anne Gardner
Cheryl Anne Gardner prefers writing stories to writing bios because she always seems to forget what point of view she is in. When she isn’t writing, she likes to chase marbles on a glass floor, eat lint, play with sharp objects, and make taxidermy dioramas with dead flies. Her flash fiction has been published at Dustbin, Dark Chaos, Carnage Conservatory, Pure Slush, Negative Suck, Danse Macabre, and at The Molotov Cocktail among others. You can find more of her work at Twisted Knickers Publications. She is also the administrative muscle behind this site. If you want to leave her a message, you will have to leave it with the nurse at the front desk. Visiting hours are over.