Friday, June 8, 2012
Explosions wake me. I rollover, convincing myself it's thunder.
Louisa pinches hard. "Your job."
I stumble down the stairs, taking it personally, hating the bitterness between us since Janice's birth, but this silliness of checking downstairs is pointless. We no longer live in Amsterdam's De Wallen. The suburbs are safe.
A click pings against teak flooring. Something skitters. A bug? It flies through my hand. Pain blossoms. It's torn my plam, exposing bone.
The flesh throbs with a sunflower seed wedged within. It pops, roots uncurling.
I grab a meat tenderizer and hammer until it pops.
Seeds ping the window.
I'm traveling in Sweden this week. I'll blame jetlag for the reason I don't have a fresh flash written. Instead, I'm recycling a drabble I posted to Lily Childs' Friday Prediction. This was the winning entry that week and was a reprise of my The Flower Apocalypse's Seeds, set in the same world but with different characters. Lily Childs has retired from her Friday Prediction, but it has been continued at Phil Ambler's place, check it out.