Ficlets

Side by side. Moment by moment. The memories were drawn together and woven through the holes in my memory were rosebeds waiting to bloom. Rust colored skies, bright blue bikes, yellow sparrows, green grass, all fenced in by a black thread of honesty. The thorns crept through the vangaurd of truth to catch at my shirt sleeves and shred my pride with what I’m hiding.

The colours ran with each tear I shed.

Which was odd, because I didn’t think colored pencil color could bleed.

The tip of my finger swept up some sapphire tears and I tasted freedom, clean freedom.

The red sky I’d sketched smelled bitter.

I saw the green, green grass and visions of success came with waves of dollar bills.

I heard the yellow birds chirping, and I thought it was joy.

I felt the black edged picture shake with fear.

I found a new crisp white sheet of paper and I felt hope.