Attempt #4 flash fiction, a dream I had….
It’s like he wasn’t even capable of being helped at that point.
The look in his eye was so beyond sane, so unlike himself that I actually got the chills looking at what used to be my sanctuary, the safest place I knew.
He picked the limp dog up, dancing around with him to some unheard music, what looked to me like an unpolished version of the waltz, performed with very much polish at the wedding just two years before, as leftover vomit and blood splashed around the room. The splatters were sickeningly loud as I tried to focus on what he was saying, what those annoyingly quick lips were darting here and there about
“See baby, I knew he would pull through, he’s fine, just fine!” The nervous chuckle that followed was a cheesy suspense movie goldmine.
A tear fell unwelcomed onto my hot face as I backed away from the nightmare in front of me. He’s gone.


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