I am beautiful, I know.
Tag: microstories
Exodus
We had come so close. We rationed proteins, we doled out water in scant mouthfuls. If we were careful, there would be just enough. Then we ran out of fuel. Outside, a blue-green world rotates tantalizingly out of reach. I lick my dry lips and send another mayday.
Star-crossed
I traded minutes for kisses, hours for the slide of your skin against mine. I drew out every second, unwound them one by one: my fingers, your hair. In that perfect moment when time no longer mattered, the lark began to sing.
Tailor
I thought I had bundled myself against you, had sewn myself into this shroud and made myself untouchable. I thought you would not find a way back in. It seems I left a button in your pocket, a knife, needle and thread.
Deliverance
“They call me Glory.” It is a use-name. This matters less to the thick-necked bureaucrat barring my way than to his masters. Burdened by the weight of a name I was not born to and do not want, I swing my sword.
Christine Hanolsy 