FLASH FICTION:-- HORROR, SCI-FI, HUMOUR, CRIME, SLICE OF LIFE, ETC.

Friday 20 February 2015

A cool breeze


Dyson sat on the edge of the cliff, swinging his legs and savouring the cool breeze.

His headgear lay on the scorched ground several feet behind him, and beyond that trailed the rest of his protective clothing, discarded over the last few yards of his existence.

He held the pistol between his hands, much as he would have held his wife's hand over the table sometimes.

Sometimes...

A long time ago. How long ago? He couldn't recall. A tear trickled down his cheek, forging a meandering path through the encrusted dust

He couldn't even recall how long it was since he last saw another human being. A month? A year? A decade? Maybe he never had.

He wasn't sure how to tell the difference between memory and imagination any more, or even sure if he ever was able to.

Behind him the sun was setting over the mountains. A beautiful sunset, multi-hued with every shade of red, pink and purple.

He knew this without the need to turn his head to see it. Every sunset was the same now, the contamination had seen to that. What it took in life, it returned in those sunsets, the one beautiful gift it gave.

Dyson checked the load in the pistol once more, then laid the weapon down on the ground beside his thigh.

He listened intently for a while. No birds chirrupped, no insects droned, just the faint lap of the ocean on the rocks far below his feet.

And the feel of that cool, cool breeze on his skin.

He had been wrapped in the sweaty confines of the suit so long he had forgotten just how it felt. Just how so, so good it felt.

He was paying for that cool breeze with every exposed second, with every unfiltered breath.

He didn't mind.

He wouldn't suffer like so many had before him. He had the pistol.

He allowed himself to fall backwards and lay on the ground. He stared at the sky. The brightness of it hurt his eyes. The blue of days gone by replaced with an almost unfettered harsh glare. There were no clouds any more either, another contamination casualty.

Before long the heat from the ground began to burn into the bare skin of his back. He pushed himself into an upright position and stared out to sea once more, the cool breeze flowing over him.

He leaned forward and glanced down at the sharp rocks far below, considering whether to just close his eyes and lean further forward until he reached tipping point.

The sea would welcome him, he had no doubt of that, just one more piece of dead meat to mingle with all the other dead it already contained. Another ingredient in the soup.

Dyson breathed a deep sigh.

He stared out to sea until his vision blurred.

Until his thoughts wandered.

Until his mind's eye found what he had lost. What had been taken from him.

For the last time in his life he experienced the love of a good woman. The joy of holding his new born baby. All happy, beautiful memories flooded his thoughts, coursed through his very being, bringing the deepest joy he had felt for such a long, long time.

As the happiness inside him strengthened, so did the feeling of violation in his skin and bones.

The pain within him grew as his organs strove to function effectively.

Dyson resolved to carry those happy memories and emotions with him on the last leg of his journey.

As he reached for the pistol he called his wife's name over and over.

No-one would hear him.

Just as no-one would hear the sound of the shot as it was carried away on that cool, cool breeze.


©2015 Stephen. J. Green.


26 comments:

  1. Oh that was sad and moving Steven - it's sad because he felt he couldn't go on living and yet you captured how he felt by all he had lost.

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    1. Helen, thank you very much for this heartening comment, it is very much appreciated. :-)

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  2. To be the last one standing in desolation, and memory is all that is left. Moving.

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    1. Thank you David. Survival isn't always enough reason to go on living, for many, there has to be more than just an existence.

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  3. I suppose it must be that way for the last man on Earth.

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    1. I think so too. Larry. I don't know if he was the last man on Earth, but I think he believed it to be so.

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  4. this was a fantastic mix of the emotional but also you could really feel the physical sensations of it all

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    1. Marc, thank you so much for the very kind words. Some stories work better than others, and it is always good to know when one hits the right spot for the reader.

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  5. This was so beautifully done, so sad and poignant. Loved the contrast of the scorched ground with the water below.

    Just one small thing threw me off a little:
    > then laid the weapon down by his side, next to the rapidly drying tear stain.<
    I had trouble picturing this. His tear stain fell all the way to the ground?


    Again, loved this, the way you revealed the details slowly as we got inside his head. This was wonderful!

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    1. Catherine, thank you so much for the lovely comment. :-)

      Re the teardrop. In Para 5 "It dripped from his chin, creating a miniscule crater of darkness on the dry ground beside his thigh." So, yes, the teardrop did fall to the ground, but...

      On reflection, unless he had his head to one side, the teardrop would be more likely to land on his chest, or if he was leant forward, between his thighs.

      I have decided to do a little editing with the teardrop, maybe it will read slightly better now than before.

      Thank you for the constructive feedback, it is always welcome. :-)

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    1. Thank you, Tim. The readers' feedback from this story has been a real confidence boost :-)

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  7. That was a very moving piece, Steve. The moment of clarity with his memories at the end was a nice touch. A great reminder of the things that really matter.

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    1. Thank you, Chuck. If it is time to go, I think it would be much better to go with life's happy memories in mind.

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    1. It certainly is, Sonia. Let us hope that our world never becomes like the one he was about to leave.

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  9. It is always better to have lived than it is merely to have existed. I imagine there were many times he felt much like a ghost wandering through a dead world.

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    1. I agreen, Jon. Life does have to be worth living to be worth keeping. Although, as a species, our will to survive at almost any cost is very strong, I'm not sure that many people would continue to live his existence either.

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  10. Haunting piece. The vastness of that lonely, dead world has crushed him. I wouldn't see a tomorrow, just like he didn't. There simply isn't one.

    Beautiful writing, Steve. It hit right where it should. We should all go and hug someone.

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    1. Thank you, Cindy.

      Even if the world had been left physically beautiful, it would still feel barren if there was no-one left to hug.

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  11. Nicely done. I liked his character and the way you described his emotions. He seemed to feel too deeply to go on living.

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    1. Thank you, Richard. I think his situation would wear most people down sooner or later.

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  12. Deliciously Dark. Enjoyed


    Ally :)

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    1. Hi Ally, and welcome to these pages.

      Thank you for stopping by, and for the lovely comment, I'm glad that you enjoyed the read. :-)

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    1. His is not a situation anyone would envy is it Icy?

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