Flash Fiction Exercise

My feet were so cold. That’s what woke me up. My head pounded. I could comprehend nothing else than sipping on a cup of Sumatra dark with a squeeze of honey. It was a crippling addiction, but I loved her so.

I felt strange that morning. Besides the oncoming migraine, which was most likely the result of a night of heavy drinking, I had this overwhelming sense of déjà vu. Attempting to loosen my aching back, I swung my feet out of bed and started towards the kitchen. My cerebral cortex bickered, right against left. Visions of last night fought their way into my thoughts but the legs ignored any neural impulses other than navigating their usual morning routine.

Suddenly aware of my surroundings, I was not in the kitchen at all, but a living room. “Oh God, did I go home with someone?”

Still groggy and heavy-lidded, I turned the corner again. Only, I found myself standing on the other side of the room. Stepping back over the threshold, it was my laundry room. Relieved but apparently disoriented, I whispered angrily. “Damn girl. Get a hold of yourself!”

 I closed my eyes so tight that I started to see dizzying kaleidoscope bursts of purple and green. Opening them again, I was staring at a clean coffee pot sitting on the counter top by the stove. “But, um… I didn’t - maybe I should start with a glass water”.

Standing by the tap, I sipped slowly, drank enthusiastically, and then gulped desperately. At this point, I was convinced that I could drink the entire volume of Lake Michigan and still feel thirsty. It was almost as if I couldn’t even feel the water on my throat. With my head tilted back to catch the last drop of a fourth glass, I noticed a book of matches on the kitchen table. I had quit smoking over 2 years ago and kept the habit of hoarding lighters, but never matches. The advertisement on the front was illegible, but the back held a message written in thick sharpie scrawl. “WATER” I didn’t feel thirsty anymore.

The floorboards shuddered. Across the room, my glass fell from the counter. Sharp Shards splintered across the floor, but the sound of breaking glass came from another room.

Grabbing a bread knife on the way, I rushed upstairs. Someone was in my house. Suddenly terrified, but also annoyed, I turned the lock on the bedroom door. “Of course. The headlines will read ‘Unsuspecting woman killed because she was too hung-over to fend off attacker’ What. The. Hell.”.

Dialing over and over, my cell phone refused to connect. The sound of footsteps grew louder and closer. I jumped back. Gripping the handle of the breadknife, crumbs sprinkled onto the rug. If someone were to see me at that moment, I looked like the only knowledge I had of fighting was from a ‘so bad it’s not even funny’ kung-fu movie. Rocking my hips back and forth and crouched down like my name was hidden dragon, I tried to quell the heartbeat that filled my ears. “Float like a butterfly baby”, I joked.

     I waited for the inevitable, but nothing happened. I mean nothing. I was so wrapped up in adrenaline and nausea. It took five minutes before I realized the house was silent again. Slowly, I walked back towards the door. Closer. A little closer. I pressed my ear against the door. BANG! The sound of a fist on metal. Its noise reverberated like a ripple on the water.

Stumbling backwards, I dropped the knife. My foot tripped over a shoe rack and I fell. A storm of leather, laces, and soles tumbled over the floor. It made no sense. I didn’t know what could make that sound. I practically lived in a log cabin. One of the boots rolled between outstretched legs. The pattern of its grip caught my eye. Small imprinted letters read, “SAFE”. It was stamped right into the rubber. I heard the lock click and as I feared, the door began to open.

Sitting in breadcrumbs and surrounded by piles of mismatched shoes, I began throwing whatever my terror-frozen mind could make my fingers hold onto. After tossing a couple of particularly pointy stilettos and my useless cell phone, I realized no one was coming for me. I was alone. The heat of embarrassment flushed across my cheeks.

Ignoring the mess I had just created, I stepped back into the kitchen only to be confronted by the last thing I wished to see at that moment. The magnets on the fridge were recently rearranged. Most of them had been pushed to the side, except for several brightly colored plastic letters. I thoroughly regretted doubting myself and became filled with dread.

“REALIZE”

It was then I heard muffled voices. I was sure that they were contained inside the house, yet completely bewildered as to exactly where from. The tears came unannounced.

I skulked about from room to room and back through again, listening for any clues. It was only when I had completely lent my mind to exasperation that I noticed the stereo speakers. I sat down next to them and it was then I was able to discern the words behind those muffled voices.

---

“Did you or did you not check her paperwork?”

A man’s voice demanded. He slammed his hand down on something metallic. The sound of it reverberated like a ripple on the water. 

A moment of silence passed.

Next, came a woman’s voice. She was calm and possessed a note of authority in her tone.

“All persons in her class are able to decide. It is a mandatory step in applying for an identification card. Donate the organs or donate the body.”

The statement was met with a baritone growl.

“You must understand Dr. Bale. In eight cases out of ten, people of her…um, financial situation… will choose to have their health expenses paid in full rather than passing the debt onto a family member in which nine out of ten cases indicate they are of the same income bracket.”

The woman paused, then added.

“The brain stem must be no older than 12 hours in order for the software to take. She was in the water for so long. The cold was the only reason the brain’s temperature was held in the safe zone. You must realize. If perfected, this technology could help rehabilitate patients from a catatonic or even comatose state. You must realize the good we can do.”

This time, her plea was met with a sigh.

“Every stimuli the body experiences causes a chain of free association in the brain. It could be years before I discover a way to control the perceived environment. She is spiraling into chaotic mania. Did you or did you not check her paperwork?”