Photo by Rebecca J. Allred - Artwork provided by Dib: “Kindergarten Self-portrait”
INSIDE OUT
The atm machine disappeared, it left a hole in the wall; they just bricked it up. My mam used to get her money there; it caused us a lot of extra walking that machine being gone.
Soon my new red trainers wore down, long time before I got a new pair. I loved those red trainers.
Anyway, afterwards they used red brick, set back from the grey granite, as if you could still see inside the wall. I guess they just ran out of money, or didn’t care to add the facing bricks to finish it off.
Seeing inside, I remember, that got me thinking. Five years old and fascinated by the interior of everything that came my way. Blood and spit and puke and crap and piss – yeah ok - but what was really inside?
Did our dream monsters, live in our heads? Could you tell by our faces? If we looked fierce – was this us, really us, or something inside showing? And, if a whole money machine could disappear, well, what else could be there one day and gone the next?
Of course I know now that the neighbourhood was changing and the bank had just moved on, but I can clearly remember my puzzlement.
I wore my superhero pjs inside out, tried to see down my own throat with my mother’s make-up compact. I watched everyone closely, especially the grown-ups.
And I saw. Sharp teeth arguments, death skulls, many fingered fists. I saw my first aura near the time the atm disappeared. Boiling anger, seething frustration, broken depression. I took to wearing my sunglasses continually.
When did it stop? It must’ve been when I got sent to the new family. I lived in the grey world for a long time then.
Why bring this up now? Well, I’m not sure if it began with the new trainers – red of course - or the red brick of my new house. Yeah, it’s a thing for me – new place, new trainers.
Whatever, it’s back. Don’t believe me? I can see your spirals of pain, sparks of joy; I can see your gleaming avarice.
I can see you inside out.
*
This story was my response to the flash fiction contest - Flash Frenzy at The Angry Hourglass - which gave the above image as a prompt, with a 360 word count limit. Delighted to have been given an Honourable Mention - judges comments can be viewed here.
The atm machine disappeared, it left a hole in the wall; they just bricked it up. My mam used to get her money there; it caused us a lot of extra walking that machine being gone.
Soon my new red trainers wore down, long time before I got a new pair. I loved those red trainers.
Anyway, afterwards they used red brick, set back from the grey granite, as if you could still see inside the wall. I guess they just ran out of money, or didn’t care to add the facing bricks to finish it off.
Seeing inside, I remember, that got me thinking. Five years old and fascinated by the interior of everything that came my way. Blood and spit and puke and crap and piss – yeah ok - but what was really inside?
Did our dream monsters, live in our heads? Could you tell by our faces? If we looked fierce – was this us, really us, or something inside showing? And, if a whole money machine could disappear, well, what else could be there one day and gone the next?
Of course I know now that the neighbourhood was changing and the bank had just moved on, but I can clearly remember my puzzlement.
I wore my superhero pjs inside out, tried to see down my own throat with my mother’s make-up compact. I watched everyone closely, especially the grown-ups.
And I saw. Sharp teeth arguments, death skulls, many fingered fists. I saw my first aura near the time the atm disappeared. Boiling anger, seething frustration, broken depression. I took to wearing my sunglasses continually.
When did it stop? It must’ve been when I got sent to the new family. I lived in the grey world for a long time then.
Why bring this up now? Well, I’m not sure if it began with the new trainers – red of course - or the red brick of my new house. Yeah, it’s a thing for me – new place, new trainers.
Whatever, it’s back. Don’t believe me? I can see your spirals of pain, sparks of joy; I can see your gleaming avarice.
I can see you inside out.
*
This story was my response to the flash fiction contest - Flash Frenzy at The Angry Hourglass - which gave the above image as a prompt, with a 360 word count limit. Delighted to have been given an Honourable Mention - judges comments can be viewed here.
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