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Mud. An eternity of mud.

Mud and … softer mud? Something else. A forgotten thing. What?

Beyond the screaming pressure that blocks and baffles thought, out there where the blind hand gropes, sweet open air and free movement and  … shapes?

Meaningless shapes. Something round? Something cold? But thought is fading. There’s nothing …

… only one last soft sweet impression, warm and fleeting, and as the mind slides down into cold pain and silence it takes with it a savour of love and hope.

“Boy? Here boy! Good boy – whatisit? Whatisit boy?”

“Pull him off.”

“Here’s a good boy.”

“Pull him off. No. No pulse.”

“Nothing? (There’s a good boy).”

“Keep him still a moment … No. Nothing on the phones, either. Tag it.”

Offff you go boy!”

“Find us a live one this time.”

Miranda has tempted me back with her Mid-Week Flash Challenge. I knew I’d find a tale for her in the end. I didn’t expect it would be quite so bleak.


One comment on “Mud

  1. Ooo, what is it? is it human? Oooo. I’m all curious now. Nice little piece with it’s gruesome edge. Thanks for coming to join in. Lovely to have you here.

    Liked by 1 person

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