Mushrooms


Bacteria screams down the walls. I feel myself separate, drunk on the smell of fungus. Breath as manacled as my body.

A rip of velcro is amplified by the darkness. A yellow mask looms over. Injection. Hot. Suffocating. Liquid burns through my veins. Words die within me. Stillness.

A seed is planted in my mind. The roots are fierce, killing my memories. I grasp after the memory of eating potted crab sandwiches with dad while our toes dangle in the sea. Gone.

I can feel it inside me. I’m an echo. Not my words. Not my breath. Inseparable from it.

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Reference:
Highly commended, NYC Midnight Flash Fiction international writing competition
Photo by Jaël Vallée on Unsplash

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