Flash Fiction: Thirteen
For #MondayBlogs today, I decided to post an old flash fiction, from around the same time I wrote the Red Wheelbarrow stories. It's old and rough in spots, and I'm not happy with it...but it still means something to me. My younger sister went through chemotherapy at age thirteen, which is what inspired this character and this story. So really, it's dedicated to her and all she went through at that crucial age. Anyway, here. *hides* Thirteen I let my mind drift, let the sound of beeping monitors and bustling nurses fade into the background. I’ve always been good at escaping. Mentally, anyway. There was a time I tried escaping physically, too, when mental escape wasn’t enough. It was a night not so long ago, the night before I could officially call myself a teen, and I told myself that thirteen was young. Thirteen was strong. And maybe, I thought, if I could make it home, Jess wouldn’t have to spend our birthday at the hospital. By the time I ripped t...