Is this real?
I...I think so. It seems so real.
I lay my hand on my chest. The heart is beating. Or, at least I think it is. I look at those same hands. They're sweaty and shaking.
Birds fly in the great blue sky. The forest smells of rot from the decaying leaves.
It must be real. Nothing could be more natural.
And yet, there are three shards of...sky? Scenery? Landscape? On the ground. And three black holes in the sky to match. A pair of grey pigeons fly through one of the holes as if it's not even there. How?
I pick one of the shards, but to my surprise, it disappears. No! Wait. It's still in my hand, but I can't see it. I reach for the other two shards and sure enough, they're still there. They've simply become invisible.
I look up at the holes again and they've started to fade and shrink. The outermost edges mending first in an organic manner, like a human wound.
If I can feel the shards, can I also touch the hole?
The trees around are tall enough to reach the holes. And their thick trunks appear sturdy. I was an avid tree climber as a child. What could go wrong? Curiosity never harmed anyone, or anything, except for some cats.
Up, and up I go, climbing the nearest tree to the holes. A couple of scrapes on my knees and palms from earlier attempts. Like any other skill, tree climbing declines and deteriorates without practice. I wrap my arms to the tree like a Koala bear. Gripping it harder as the ground becomes farther from my reach. Don't look down. Don't look down. I never liked heights, you see.
But there's no time to spare. The holes have almost completely disappeared. Only three dull grey blurs show that they were ever there. I get to the edge of the tree branch and hear a crack. Falling now would be no different to jumping out of a second floor window.
Almost there. I internally shrug, what have I got to lose? So, I conjure a mental image of a tree snake from Nat Geo Wild, and spring from the tree branch, grasping one of the holes. My hand goes through it like jelly, before it toughens like stale bread and cracks from my weight. An entire chunk of landscape crashes, along with me, to the ground.
A massive blank. The sky looks like a puzzle with several pieces missing in the middle.
My head may be spinning from the fall, but so is the entire surrounding.
The sky is an angry red and starts to pulsate. A siren screams like an air horn from an obnoxious sports fan, battering my ear drums till they seize and all I hear is static. The trees curve, bending into themselves.
But that's not my biggest concern. I'm far too distracted watching my hands pixelize like a picture drawn on MS Paint.
YOU ARE READING
Competing Flash FictionGeneral Fiction
A collection of works for various Wattpad competitions and writing prompts. Ranging from 100 to 1000 words, but on average around 500 words. The works are arranged randomly. But the ones at the top are either recent, winners, or received good-ish...