As prompted as a by @Turtles of Alchemy
Prompt: Window
Genre: Open
Length: MICRO FICTION - 300 words or less
If everyone could see them, it would be a whole lot less messy.
But here I am, dragging a body that isn’t real into the woods.
He’s not dead. Don’t worry about that.
No, he’s… suspended.
I should go back.
Maybe not to the beginning—
but let’s walk this forward from Wednesday.
That was just days ago, feels like eternity.
⸻
His hand sent ice through my shoulder.
“Excuse me, can you help me find the Verdant Plane?”
I swear he said it.
His golden-flecked eyes danced above a still mouth.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know that place. Maybe ask someone inside.”
A clerk, inside the fluorescent-lit fishbowl, looked over her shoulder then—
past the cigarettes, a window framed in signage .
I heard her ask, “Are you good?”
I didn’t know how, since glass, vinyl and twenty feet of asphalt and tar separated us.
His hand dropped to his side, he didn’t back up.
“Oh, I think you know where it is. I was told you hold a key.”
This time, his lips made the words.
Words that curled like vines—memory.
Words that hooked in my chest.
“No sir, I’m sorry, I don’t. If you don’t mind, I have an appointment.”
The lie slithered across the air, I replaced the gas nozzle on the pump.
He smiled.
Hands in deep pockets.
There was no appointment.
It was 7:34 p.m. on a Wednesday in June.
As he lit red in my taillights,
I heard him say—
“You could have just told.
Now I’ll have to take you there.”
⸻
So.
He’s not dead.
And I need to explain why I’m dragging a person no one else seems to be able to see
into the forest.
But first—
we need to talk about what happened after I left the gas station.
Maybe this will be something. Maybe not. Either way, it’s drifting now.
—Amber Jensen
I really admire the precision in your storytelling—“suspended” was such a perfect choice. The way this unfolds without over-explaining makes it even more haunting. If this continues, I’m absolutely here for it.
This was such an intriguing read, I need more!