Tuesday, February 10, 2009

At The Lake

Here's a piece of microfiction I wrote that I'm rather proud of.


I stared at the lake. All I could think about was Dante's Inferno. The very bottom level was a frozen lake, where traitors were frozen for the rest of eternity. I knew that's where I was going. I thought I may as well stand in the lake and wait for it to freeze. It was November, so it wouldn't be too long until it froze. But I didn't have the courage. Oh yeah, now I lose my courage. I had plenty before. I looked up at the moon. It was tangled in the bare vines of the trees. The way the branches moved across it it looked like a cracked egg, or an embryo with the veins visible. I shuffled back and forth with the fallen leaves shifting beneath my feet. They say the human mind evolved to recognize faces and that's why face like patterns seem to be everywhere. Especially now. The trees all had accusing faces. What was that noise? Was it the wind blowing, or was it the sound of the gas chamber? Were those just leaves rustling or an electric chair? Were there broken branches swinging from the tree or was it the gallows? Christ, I was losing it. I had to get out. I tried to find the path I took here. It was gone! But it was here just a moment ago! Now there were only trees there! I reached out to the nearest tree and felt a long, cold metal bar.

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