tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6642076166796902853.post8746752967306116145..comments2024-02-05T01:49:05.302-05:00Comments on Creative Bloomings' Flashy Fiction Friday: HopscotchWalt Wojtanikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02723314300320671675noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6642076166796902853.post-78275303473385489842011-10-21T13:21:11.382-04:002011-10-21T13:21:11.382-04:00“One, two, buckle my shoe.”
The rain fell on my h...“One, two, buckle my shoe.”<br /><br />The rain fell on my head, one slow, miserable drop at a time.<br /><br />“Three, four, open the door.”<br /><br />The clouds suffocated what was left of the sun.<br /><br />“Five, six, pick up some sticks.”<br /><br />The voices of children laughing in the distance were muted by own introspection.<br /><br />“Seven, eight, kill someone you hate.”<br /><br />The pigeons circled overhead, their shadow wrapping around me like a pre-emptive shroud.<br /><br />“Nine, ten, do it again.”<br /><br />The past twenty-four hours burned in my throat.<br /><br />“One, two, buckle my shoe.”<br /><br />A drop of rain hit one of my eyes, a splash of cold that stung and made my toes curl.<br /><br />“Three, four, open the door.”<br /><br />A dark cloud rose from the horizon to take the sun’s last, grasping breath.<br /><br />“Five, six, pick up some sticks.”<br /><br />A group of children dropped their jump rope and began to quarrel like barnyard chickens.<br /><br />“Seven, eight, kill someone you hate.”<br /><br />But I hate so very many people.<br /><br />“Nine, ten, do it again.”<br /><br />My weary fingers wrapped around the handle of the still bloody knife in my pocket.<br /><br />“One, two, buckle my shoe.”C. N. Nevetshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00375714948653196993noreply@blogger.com