Sunday Six

Six sentences for Sunday, May 4:

I’d seen all sorts of things in my time: cities that burned for months on end, women levitating above the ground, a man shot six times who got up and walked across a frozen lake, only to fall through the ice and drown. There was a woman, once, who would pass her hand over your eyes and tell you when you were going to die. Even those who were dead didn’t necessarily stay that way. Men declared dead, from time to time, would wake with a gasp, with a flickering of their eyelids, and the doctors would simply shrug and move on, their interest extinguished once the patient was out of danger. Anything is possible, that is what the war taught me–the greatest cruelty, the worst fear, also sometimes the most perfect happiness and relief. Something gets shaken loose, who knows what.

About these ads

2 Comments

Filed under Fiction

2 responses to “Sunday Six

  1. mdsuze

    And who knows what happens then.
    Magnificent

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s