I happened over to the Deadline Dames blog this afternoon and found myself browsing to see if there was a flash fiction challenge going on and there was. I wasn't sure about the image, but I guess if you stare at something long enough, something will come to you :).
The image I have here is not the image from the Dames' blog, since they ask that you do not repost, but I found this one and I believe it still represents my flash, perhaps even better? You can see the image here...and perhaps even try your own flash for the prompt!
Deadline Dames Flash Fiction Challenge
by Amy C
Word Count - 341
Nightmares haunt me of a past I cannot forget. They mock me, taunting me. Weakened and tired from the onslaught, I am lost in the dark confines of my mind, fractured and broken. My nightmares rule me.
Small fingers tug my sleeve. A tiny voice drifts to my ears. I look down and gaze into a set of eyes, eyes that reflect my own, eyes no longer sick with disease. I see my past within the deep blue orbs. There is no censure, no longing for that which is now gone. I wrap my arms around the petite child before me. She is the root of all my nightmares.
“It’s okay, mama. I love you,” that little voice croons in my ear. If only I can believe her.
Wetness soils my lashes, my cheeks. This tiny little package of a child comforts me. I squeeze my arms tighter, trying with all my might to hang on to my precious baby girl. But my nightmare takes over and she vanishes, slips without a trace from my embrace.
I could not protect her, and she is lost from me, always and forever. I am at a crossroad. I want this nightmare over, to have my baby girl back, but I know not which road to walk.
I feel the warm press of her tiny little hand curl itself against my palm. I clutch my fingers gently, holding on. “This way, mama. Walk with me down this road.” She smiles up at me lovingly—my little flower.
I fear the potholes of guilt which I have stumbled over along the road behind me. Yet as we walk, the road becomes smoother, the holes growing smaller and smaller, until the guilt is mere minuscule cracks under my feet.
As we travel, broken rays of light shine through the canopy of branches and leaves overhead. I come to the end of the road and realize I am alone. I don’t know when she left me, but when she did, I didn’t feel that terrible, heart-wrenching ache.* * * * *