“You can only see the flowers, if you’ve died already.” –
I’m standing in a small neighbourhood in the suburbs in front of a small house. My house. I have never been inside, but I know that this house is mine.
There is a small yard with a cyclone fence in the front. Along the fence are thorny rose bushes with blossoms in every color and on the fence post in front of me is a white, halfway burnt down candle. I want to light the candle, but I can’t and I’m not sure why.
A little girl in a white dress is standing beside me. Her dress has a few blood stains on it. She’s telling me, that she too can see the flowers, then she takes my hand, looks up at me and smiles. This is her way of explaining it to me. Now I know, but I don’t know how…
This short story (or should I rather say micro story?) is part of the project Daily Dispatch.
About this Story:
Another story that originates from a dream I recently had. I’ve found it quite moving and beautiful in it’s own little creepy way, I simply had to write it down.
Now, as I’m reading a lot about short stories these days, I’m getting more and more interested in writing one myself. I don’t quite consider the story above (or the other two I wrote earlier, which can be found here and here for those interested) to be qualified enough to be called a short story. The reason for that is that they all lack some of the key elements a short story has to have and they all are, well, quite short.
My problem is, that all of these stories come in little bits and pieces, fragments. I can’t seem to add more to the stories, even if I really wanted to. My guess is, that I need to practise writing stories more in order to be able to write longer ones.
For today, I’m glad that I’ve been able to write this short story. The amount of amateurism in this is quite appropriate. We can only get better in what we do step by step and day by day.
See you soon,