Sunday, March 1, 2015

Flash Fiction by Alan Dartnall

Looking Out of My Window


Fire and brimstone pours from the sky coating the skyscrapers in a molten glow. Everyone is eerily silent. Blink. Brilliant sunshine perforates the paper that I had placed against the pain before creeping behind a cloud shrouding the open streets in gloom. Multi-coloured umbrellas rise in unison to shield from the expected downpour. Blink. The ground tremors as cracks appear in the street. An abandoned car slides across the melting tarmac as a penguin would on a tipping iceberg. A building across from me groans unbearable as the foundations liquefy. It creaks. Cement crumbles. Slabs break and glass shatters. It tilts, leans, leans towards my cramped apartment. Blink. I step back in surprise, squinting as the sun peeks out from the cloud. The umbrellas drop. Blink. I can hear screams now. No, it’s my scream; the tower is racing to me. Blink.  A cat wonders across the window sill outside. I stare at it, watching every minuscule detail in its matted fur, even the fleas crawling on its flesh. Don’t Blink. I watched as it rears onto its hind legs slightly and licks its belly with its rough tongue. Don’t blink. My eyes begin to water as the cat sits back down and the scratches at its neck with its hind paw, trying to dislodge the insects that were gnawing on its skin. Don’t blink!

​​​Alan Dartnall is a 2nd year university student studying Creative Writing at Winchester University. He has been writing for most of his life and tended to stay in the realms of higher fantasy. Lately, he has been attempting other parts of writing to explore new avenues and new ideas.

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