Microfiction Written by Jacob Thomas
A monster laid there in his bed, writing lines and scratches, filling the blank pages of a story. Only this story isn’t really his story – no. This story is about the many little voices that linger in the air and just outside of ear-shot. The voices are there, though. He could hear them whispering away while simultaneously shouting. Yet, he could never make out the words these disembodied voices muttered.
The rustling of the voices reminded of the letters he was once told by his former lover. Both had hoped to one day lay side-by-side, decomposed, half turned to dust and in tattered clothes when the end came. Then again, it wouldn’t be so different from their everyday lives. Too often, though, the end came for them in many different ways. This time, there wasn’t any way around preventing the end because the voices grew louder as each night came and went.
Three in the morning, the voices grew the loudest.
Only two more nights the monster whispered.
There were no more acts of defiance for this monster – no. His time for raging against the dying of the light had come and gone.
As the nights came and went, he couldn’t help but ponder while laying there in the darkness that it is better to love whether you win or lose or die.
The monster laid there in his bed, clutching the black notebook filled with his completed story to his chest.
Piles from shovels of soft dirt begin to pour six feet down, one by one.
The monster’s former lover fell to her knees as darkness began filling the nine foot long hole but not before reading the words on the notebook:
“I will always love her till I die”