Often I joke around in the short-short stories at this blog but today I was in the mood for darkness. If you would prefer a simple chuckle at the stupidity of drugs check out this news item about a guy who tried to smuggle drugs beneath a wig. That story is great for those of you who want a laugh but today's fast fiction is a very bleak take on addiction.
She sits slack at the table with her eyes bagged out in brown pouches that might be concealing some new wonder drug for those with the money to cut their way through despicable crimes. Yeah, it's great but it'll cost you big time. Don't ask where it comes from, it'll ruin your trip. Just keep your eyes on the tree branches around her that reach down with unnatural cravings. Clawing for under her skin. Or so it seems. Or so they told me.
She waits for the man who promised to take her away from all this. From the bone white picnic table that creaks beneath her like a withered old man that barely holds her up. Grandfather time with a bad ticker. Apparently, time's about to croak. Or so he told me. Or so he groaned to me.
I'll be there half past the hour, just hold on, he said. He was so honest, she could smell it. She wanted to touch him, feel something so soft within him. Or so she believed.
But she knows where the holes are that she can run into to end her thick, suffocating desires. Her tenous grip on resolve is slipping. She grips onto something to solve her tenous slippings.
Oh here he is, she smiles. Here he comes. The one I've been waiting for. The rabbit to chase down the hole.