Flash fiction by Joe Barr
They come in under the door. I don’t know how they do that. I don’t know how I know that. I can’t see the door from my bed. It doesn’t make sense. They leave by the oven. Why would they come in under the door?
I don’t think they know I’m here. I lie very still. I close my eyes and hold my breath, but they don’t go away. They move around and they talk. I don’t know what they are doing.
The boys say I’m dreaming. They don’t know.
I’m afraid all the time. I think they will come and get me. My mouth gets dry. I don’t think I can scream.
I think they’re looking at me. They stopped talking. They’re coming. I’m going to slide under the covers and hold my breath.
Oh God. Please help me…
9 responses so far ↓
1 Joe // Feb 22, 2008 at 11:56 pm
Okay, Scribes.
Give me a reaction, Please.
For those of you who were present, please give me your thoughts when you first heard it, before you knew the context. Save the later reactions for another time.
2 Eric McMurtrey // Feb 23, 2008 at 1:51 pm
My Reaction?
Really, it was one of memory, and perhaps regret. I saw my own Grandmother through this sort of thing, and although it wasn’t pleasant, I’m glad I was there for her as much as possible.
Well done, Joe. I have a short piece I’ll send Francisco’s way, and see if I can join you.
3 Joe // Feb 23, 2008 at 2:33 pm
NO, NO, NO, Eric. You were not supposed to disclose the context. I wanted your reaction to the words, before you knew what was going on.
4 Eric McMurtrey // Feb 23, 2008 at 2:51 pm
But… But… But…
It was! Sorry if I let the cat out of the bag, but at the same time…
I once heard it said that some of us carry things around that have shaped the person we are - experiences, that, for lack of better words are so burned upon us that we’re forever changed by them.
My father died when I was 17, and my mother had divorced him years earlier. This left me to keep an aey on his… Oh, I believe his mother was 89 at the time. It… Well, is fodder for a novel, I suppose, but…
17 year old boys and 89 year old women just aren’t supposed to spend as much time together as we had to. The defining points in that relationship were as she failed, both mentally and physically.
I remember getting the call from a ‘passer by’ that inadvertantly discovered my Grandmother had fallen and been trapped on the floor for who-knows-how-long very late one night at college.
I remember the late-night drive home, and the feelings of helplessness as she lay in bed jabbering about this and that, and repeatedly calling me ‘Dennis’. Dennis was my father, her son, and at this point in her life the diphasia (or whatever) allowed her mind to make me ‘Dennis’ and to her, the grandson known as ‘Eric’ never existed at that point on.
I had her hauled off to the hospital the next morning - two meatwagons and two engine companies responded due to her heart problems. Quite the circus.
She spent a month in the hospital that time - having suffered from no broken bones, but extreme malnutrition (she had been inadequately trying to feed herself while I was at school).
Anyways, not sure if I made my point, but… When I read anything about a person lying in bed, and ‘boys’ disagreeing with said person, I’m taken back to those days, because…
It was one if the more… Unique… Personal experiences I’ve had.
It’s unwise to underestimate the power of one’s written words. You may have seen a half a page of text and your own experiences, but upon reading them my own thoughts went back to years of my own experiences.
Maybe it’s not too powerful of stuff for everyone, but it was for me.
5 Lisa Adamowicz Kless // Feb 24, 2008 at 4:35 pm
Here were my first reactions upon hearing you read this, Joe. Like Josie, I at first thought that this might be a child describing mice coming in to a house/room (coming under the door, leaving by the oven). But once “they” began talking, I ruled out that theory. Then as I thought about the fact that “they” were coming to get him/her, and they left by the ovens, (I thought “they” could be referring to two different groups) my mind jumped to a concentration camp scenario. Your use of short, concise sentences really highlighted the sense of fear and urgency he/she was feeling. Although this piece is only a few paragraphs long, it certainly packs a wallop and is very riveting–well done!
6 Rick McCluskey // Feb 25, 2008 at 9:38 am
You know, I like reading your work. It seems your pen (keyboards too) and my noggin bond easier that way.
And yes, this is powerful. Heart felt too. Personal experiences are like that when their essence is captured in words and wrestled onto a printed form.
7 Joe // Feb 26, 2008 at 6:04 am
I can, to some degree, understand the trauma you endured, Eric.
I was trying to see if I could portray some of the emotions involved without getting into all the details of the situation. I was attempting to share the feelings without the facts.
8 Bill Schroeder // Feb 29, 2008 at 9:00 am
What was it? I want to know. This upset me and its evident the person was in some kind of agony/what kind I’m not sure. I want more, expansion, a resolution . Don’t do this to me/unsettling for me anyhow.
9 Joe // Feb 29, 2008 at 10:01 am
First, it’s good to hear from you, Bill.
Your reaction is the result I wanted. I was trying to portray a state of mind. Apparently I got close. I’ll give details in a bit. I want to wait and see if others will comment.
Leave a Comment