Box (experimental flash fiction)

Laying there in that meadow; I finally woke up.

Sprinkled with fully ripened daises, the grass was brilliantly green. Early morning birds serenaded me in orchestrated unison as I laid there; thawing in the tender sun, arms and legs spread like a happy star fish. A soft wisp of wind greeted my unveiled skin, followed by the scent of faint Sitka spruce trees and sweet spring flowers. The sun’s lemonade rays flushed my cheeks as I watched the cotton candy clouds idly. I grazed my fingertips over the blades of grass; dew refreshed my warming skin. I was unusually calm. The sky was the perfect shade of baby blue; reminding me of that towel I had when I was 6, the one I would take to the beach even though my mother persistently told me not to. And the sun felt exactly the way it did back then.

A while later I jolted myself up, something didn’t feel right. I scan the field but it looked as it had always done. There was still nobody around, nobody knew about that spot. I tried to relax but a nagging feeling to move forced me to my feet. I stood there for some time, unsure of what to do next. I decided to walk towards the spruce trees. Putting one foot in front of the other felt alien, my legs begging me to sit back down.

The birds suddenly ceased to sing. I walked faster. The grass turned into Astro turf, the blades rough on the soles of my feet. The wind picked up and bitter rain descended from the heavens. I began to run; calves burning, my body screamed for me to stop. I carried on towards the grove, but the distance stayed constant and I was covering no ground.

I glimpsed behind me and the rain defied gravity before my eyes. I turned and walked away in the opposite direction. As I got closer, I noticed that rather than hitting the ground, pellets of rain were gliding down what appeared to be glass. I outstretch my arm and my hand confirms the barrier. I look up. The wall of glass towers over me. I walk east, tracing my hand along the glass as I go. The wall was infinite and like before, I was getting nowhere. I slide my hand in front of me and I’m greeted by more glass. I began to panic. Running back towards the spruces, hand never leaving the translucent barricade. Next thing I know I’m running face first into it; streaks of rain distorted the trees on the other side. Warm droplets run down my cheeks. I’m so confused.





  1. Natalie · March 24, 2016

    Something my fiction professor always used to tell me: avoid filter verbs. These are words like “seem”, “feel,” “noticed,” “saw,” “heard,” etc. They filter the experience for the reader and aren’t as powerful as saying straight-out the experience.

    For example, compare the following two sentences (one from your piece!):
    The rain seemed to be defying gravity.
    The rain defied gravity.

    The second is stronger because it doesn’t filter the experience. Saying “seemed” (or heard or saw) reminds the reader of the narrator. Removing that filter brings the reader closer to the work.

    Of course, this is a bit nitpicky, but it’s worth thinking about. Great piece 🙂 Thanks for sharing!


    • Milxntx · March 24, 2016

      That’s a very good point, I often forget things like that in early drafts. Thank you for bringing it to my attention, I appreciate it!

      Liked by 1 person

      • Natalie · March 25, 2016

        Not a problem! 🙂 Have you gotten any feedback from your professor/classmates?


      • Milxntx · March 28, 2016

        Not yet, the deadline isn’t until Tuesday so I’m still editing and completing pieces 🙂


      • Natalie · March 28, 2016

        Awesome! Good luck 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

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