A Prisoner of Life

Lit Up: Mad March Microfiction

I slap my cheek, fucking fairies! Leave me alone. They annoy me by repeating each word I utter, even impersonate my laughs, mimicking my cries.

I found a way to stop this crazy shit, easy peasy, I smash my head into the cold wall or against the iron bars. It’s quiet after that, for a while anyway.

My wife is standing next to me and my son is sitting on my lap. Confetti, colorful balloons, clapping, laughter and a two storied cake. Ha ha! I remember the taste, it was… Reality pulls me back before I can figure it out.

It’s morning, I see sharp daylight streaming in from the crack of the monster iron door. It reminds me of that steel rod, thick blood dripping off it. Whose blood?

Strong hands drag me out in the open. Cold water hits me, I shiver underneath the flimsy cotton cloth. Small drops cling to my lashes, they drip one at a time as I look up at the sun through the filter of these diamonds. Rainbows all around.

I trip up the steps while climbing the stage. They wrap a tie around my neck. My eyes open in excitement, Is there a party?

“Hey mister, it’s too tight, loosen it, please”

A sudden jerk sends my body flying, my legs search for the ground. It hurts. I can’t breath! I look down to the small crowd, there I see my little son right in the front with my pretty wife. Theirs are the only faces I can make out through the blur of my tears. They know the truth, I didn’t hurt them, I wasn’t even there. Why wasn’t I there? I am sorry, son, I won’t leave, never, I promise. They smile at me, hands outstretched, alive again.