Flash Fiction 1
It's the end of the world as I know it yet no one believes it but me.
Others here continue complacently contented murmuring memorized songs
beneath frog-laden croaking trees, gazing at darkening skies through barred windows
in stupefied wonder as the faltering sun gradually refuses light and birds begin to deny sibilant song.
“As long as hearts pump thickening blood through green twisting veins there is
hope!” the head nurse shouts.
Who here knows anything about the thundering clock but me?
If I could just only claw my way out of this padded cell and leap
across the snake-roiling floor to save their innocent souls they’d be free..
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