Today’s flash fiction prompt, brought to life by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, is more about perspective, than content. We only look up when we have to, most of the time.
First shimmering whiteness, then darkness, like a black raven harrying above her head. Overlaying, intricate swirls. They blur, refusing to unfold and show their true form.
Brightness, unbearable and keen, singes her eyes and she tries to turn away, but her stiff neck locks.
She blinks, the fuzz clears a little. Roses. Stay focussed!
Her tongue cleaves to her dry palate, refusing to budge or conjure up sounds. Glued to her sides, her rigid arms wretchedly refuse to shift.
Shadows move, criss-crossing about her. One casts closer, then whispers in her ear.
“It’s okay, Mum, you fainted.”