Ever-Turning Wheel: Flash Fiction Story #14

This is a really dark and morbid story. It came out of nowhere, or somewhere. Enjoy.


By Mary Wright (me)

Her mind twists, and her thoughts turn to rain, with gray storm clouds waiting to grab her off the ground. She is the hamster and the wheel, her thoughts slapping their feet against the pavement of her brain. There is nothing good. About her. About her life. Never anything good. Never happy.

Somewhere, there’s a small mouse, with a low voice, trying to shout the best they can over the sound of the squeaking ever-turning wheel. “You felt happy when this happened, remember?” “You’re being negative. There’s another way to look at the world and your life.”

She doesn’t hear it. She thinks she’s hearing things, but does not think, “Oh, I should investigate,” but more of, “What’s the point. I don’t care. Everything is wrong with me.”

The thoughts seem to control every other part of her body – her arms and legs move like stilts, and her head and body try to stay balanced despite those movements.

She is very inside her mind, thinking of the world, and herself, and what place she has in it. Other people could be running in this wheel, much better and faster than I am, she thinks.

She hears the mouse, finally – barely. She slows down a little. She feels a little bit better. A little more connected. Her head aches, but she is so connected with reality.

Reality sucks.

She runs fast until she cannot breathe. She is doing something. She is accomplishing life, succeeding.

She looks over to the mouse, grateful, before tripping over her feet. She is no longer connected, and her thoughts start rushing again.

Thunder. Lightning.

The mouse looks at her as she takes her last breath, and criticizes themselves for not being louder.



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