Oblivion is a short Flash Fiction story I wrote 2 years ago. I want to share it with you now. It tells a short twisted story about a dark desire for death. For years I have, as a writer, worked on my craft. A writer--writes. And continues to experiment with new and interesting ways to tell a story. This is one. It reads like a poem. It's twisted and dark.
I know you’re watching me. I know you watch me a lot at this place. It’s fairly crowded with businessmen and women. I drink my hot coffee and I know you drink your coffee too. But you prefer your coffee cold with ice. I know this because before I can see you, you have vanished. I have walked over to where you leave your cup—sweat still dripping off the sides like the sweat off our skin when I imagine us holding each other tight.
I imagine what your eyes look like and I see them as being green. I like that color and I think green suits you—in my mind.
Today I think you wore gray jogging pants and a dark yellow t-shirt with something scribbled on it. But you always ware a baseball cap. The same one you have always worn while you sat here watching me.
I pick up your cup and hold it feeling its wetness in my hands and at that moment I want to lick the cup—like it was your body. I want to taste the salt from your skin and lick it off my lips.
I don’t know what it is that you do to me. I like being watched by you. I like not knowing who you are or what you look like. And if I ever turn around to look at you. To catch your eyes you must stop me.
You have to run over to me and stop me from giving into an impulse. I want to feel your warm grip wrap around my neck as you force me face down into the water fountain. Your grip tightening as I struggle to get free. My heart races with each gulp of water that goes down my throat as I try not to breathe. You excite me this way.
I felt myself getting hard just thinking about it. I cross my legs so no one can see—see my struggle from your grip. My life is in your hands and I welcome you to free me. I can feel you behind me now…as I struggle—I’m so helpless. You’re in control and in a way you know this.
Eventually I will stop struggling and let you finish me off. I will let you touch me afterwards so you can know me. And before I actually fade off into death’s hands…I will know you.
My chest will be tight with water and my lips blue—begging for you to put life back in them. But even if you choose not to…in death I will know you—your touch—your heartbeat as you push me deeper into my water grave—your love for me as I catch glimpses of you from under the ripples of my struggle.
And like always I wake from this dream and you’re gone. What you leave behind are my treasures to keep. And like the cup, I too hope to someday hold your fingerprints on my body…so I can treasure them—remember them before I fade off into oblivion.