A short story in construction, working on editing and adjusting. This one is an attempt at flash fiction. If you enjoy it please visit my Short Stories Page to find more interactions with Qaltnat.
“Oh, no trust me I have died many times, getting back up is just another choice, if you stay dead it’s because you want to.” Qaltnat twisted gently in that questioning way they had before flipping their attention directly upon me, “Is that what you want, it is obviously what she wanted?”
I stuttered back and wiped the tears out of my eyes shaking my head, “you never understand.”
There was a gentle huff-huff of air as Qaltnat grew frustrated with my obstinance, but once they spoke the words danced in a calm quiet whisper of sorrow.
“Have you ever fallen out of the sky? Like truly tumbled from flight? To be up with the wind on your face and the stars in your eyes and the sun on your skin. To taste the clouds upon your lips even as the wind dries your face. To one minute hang right there in perfect stillness, before the wind begins to whistle, and your stomach begins to rise as the force of gravity that wants to rule your life takes hold. And then you fall, the world rushing towards you, and you know it’s coming, that moment, that ground, that if you can’t stop falling before you hit it you’ll never get up again. And you have to decide, do I just let myself hit the ground this time; do I just stop trying and let gravity do what it wants to do, have its way, let it all be over, or do I rise.”
I stared silently at Qaltnat, knowing my lack of an answer was an answer, and the silence did not stretch, it was a blip, a moment, a chance given for me to respond, when I did not they laughed and I could feel the wind of them as they circled around my head before focusing in on my eyes.
“This is how I feel all the time, to know the fall is coming again and again, and not sure what I’ll decide next time.”
I shook my head and turned away from those wind burned eyes, my silence its own rebuff to Qaltnat’s nonsense at a time of such serious sorrow. This once their silence was louder than mine, and so I spoke, “you just do not understand.”
I barely heard the wind whisper its response.
“Here we are my anchor, going all the way to the ground then.”
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