Stroke

I wake. Short sentence. No meaning. Words come from nowhere and go into nowhere else. More souffle than the muffin I was.

Something missing.

Some whole lots of somethings are gone.

I watch closely for them, but they don’t come back.

Just an expanse in front. Like being three inches away from whipped cream. I want to taste it. I stretch out. Can’t reach. Too far to be three inches. The thought of inch slips from me like a wet tomato seed.

Language.

Coming, going, coming, going.

Mesmerised without knowing of it.

I try to follow the words as they slip from the table. I roll towards them and find I have ejected from the toaster onto a tiny place for football. Green as lettuce. Soft as a slice of bread.

Four long parts to this dense and tangled me. They lay like spaghetti on a plate. I push one of the short ones against the bread, and it moves me further away. I let it go and I zoom back towards the lettuce. I bounce hard. A feeling. Like frying in a pan.

Something tickles like pepper, and, with no control, I feel the biggest part of me expand fast, then empty faster. A whooshing sound and a spray of fine fluid. Some part of me says two teaspoons full, but you’ll never catch it.

Thicker than water, thinner than honey.

The pepper goes away. More liquid from the holes at either side of where I am. Those holes open and close, open and close. I try to make them stop but they don’t.

Liquid, open, close.

Losing fluid faster than four flagons of fine wine in a full room of friendly drinkers.

To see me off?

One last hurrah?

Then, just like nothing, with the last gasp of nowhere, I hear the light fade, see the energy go.

stream of sparks. They reach for me. To take me with them. I just surrender.

Advertisements

10 thoughts on “Stroke

  1. At 7 a.m., which was when I first read this, I was bemused. Having read it again, I realise that it’s brilliant. First time around, I failed to read the title. My fault for having looked at it on my mobile phone when I was only half awake.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Yeah, I do that too. First thing, before my eyes are properly open – try to read tiny, tiny words in a tiny, tiny screen. 🙂
      Glad you like it. I’ll throw it into my short story collection when I get around to compiling it, along with the other … do you know, I have no idea how many I have by now. Must be dozens and dozens. 🙂 I’ll stick you in the cover: ‘Brilliant!’ – Sarah Potter.

      Like

      • Do you want to be guest storyteller on my blog for April? It’s rather short notice, as I would need to have the stuff for it by the 30th March to post on 1st April. But you’re a prolific writer so I’m sure you can come up with something. Have a look at this link and let me know what you think. https://sarahpotterwrites.com/guest-storytellers-2/
        By the way, I’m on another Yorkshireman’s book cover already (Peripheral Vision, by David Milligan-Croft). It says “Shades of Donna Tartt” — Sarah Potter.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Great. Yes, look at the link. That would be best, as it has all the relevant info. Any theme, apart from something that would require a censorship rating 😉 I’ve only had one other person write anything speculative or slipstream, so that would be fun. I like to showcase a cross-section of styles. Whatever you feel most inspired to write, I’m sure it will be great.

        Liked by 1 person

      • That’s great. I’m really pleased you can do this. Just write in your usual unique style, without worrying about literary labels. I’m sure I’ll love whatever you come up with 🙂
        If you’re interested to know about slipstream, other than it being plain weird, genre-bending fiction, have a look at this https://www.theguardian.com/books/2003/may/28/top10s.slipstream
        Could you possibly send me a hello message via my blog’s Contact page, then I’ll reply with my email address, so you know where to send your story etc. Thanks. I’ll go and add you to my guest storyteller page now…

        Liked by 1 person

Comments are closed.