Spring Remedies

Spring has arrived.

The sun bathes the world in gold. It seeps in through the cracks in the blinds, pulled as taut as can be, yet unable to tame the rays of the new season. Birds sing as they fly overhead, a celebration of the new, spreading their wings to crack the ache left by winter. Flowers wave at the blue sky, swaying in the gentle breeze.

‘Do you fancy going for a walk? He sits at the end of our bed, rubs my leg affectionately.

‘I do, but I don’t know if I can.’

His face saddens. He moves his hand to my ankle, feels it throbbing, swollen. ‘I’ll bring you some painkillers.’

He stands up and turns to leave, but I catch him before he goes. ‘You should still go. It’s a beautiful day,’ I say timidly, not wanting my jealousy to taint my words.

‘No, no.’ He leans down and plants a kiss on my forehead. ‘I’ve got an idea, just give me ten minutes.’

I wait in silence. The fan blows gently against my neck, my face buried into my pillowcase. It’s decorated with purple flowers, intertwining petals lined in silk, faded ever so by the wrath of the washing machine. At least I can appreciate those.

I hear his footsteps before I see him. I check the clock as he enters, it’s nearly 4 pm. Another day wasted at the mercy of fatigue.

‘I’ll help you up.’

He steadies me onto my feet and helps me dress. I stretch my limbs as far as I can, listening to the ‘crack’ after hours of laying still. We tackle the stairs together, slowly, one at a time. He has a hand on my waist, I have a hand on the railing. My ankle screams, but I ignore it.

He guides me to the dining room, an excited smile emerging, though he tries to keep it hidden.

‘I know it’s not the same as actually going out, but I thought the sun might do you some good. Can never guarantee the weather will do what we want it to tomorrow.’

All I can do is embrace him. I squeeze him as tight as my body will allow. I try to hide the tears that quiver against my eyelashes, but a few seep through, wetting his shirt in an attempt to remain incognito.

The patio doors have been opened. Two chairs have been placed opposite each other, one next to the garden table, with a glass of water and a packet of pills, the other with a cushion upon the seat, an elevation for my ailment. I hobble forwards and take my throne.

He turns on the stereo, and I sing louder than the birds ever could.

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What is Flash Fiction?

Flash fiction is a short story wherein the beginning, middle, and ending are told in less than 500 words. It can be quite the challenge to write something compelling within such a short amount of words, and so it makes a perfect warmup exercise if you're struggling to focus on a bigger project.

There are no genre limitations with flash fiction. You can write about whatever you want, so long as you reach a conclusion in 500 words or less. The conclusion doesn't have to be concrete. You can leave it open-ended and have your readers draw their own conclusions if you wish.

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Thank you for reading.

This was inspired by John Kerr ’s article, which I’ve linked below.

How to Write Flash Fiction in Four Steps

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