Five Sentence Fiction: White Static Noise

 

Like my last entry into Five Sentence Fiction, this one seemed to come right out of my real life and now has awkwardly formed a new nest of twigs and spit on this webpage where it can nestle and find comfort and gawk at passersby, occasionally squawking at them and startling them. Also, I swear that this very thing happens to me every single night when I go to lay down. Even the abrupt ending is very close to how I operate when preparing to sleep. It’s just think think think- done. Out.

But what I didn’t write down is my compulsion to think of things that I really need to write down to remember but I can never be bothered since I just want to sleep and not look at my darn phone.

 

Have fun~

 


 

 

Word of Inspiration: Bedtime

Word Count: 130

Genre: Creative Nonfiction (I guess)

Title: White Static Noise

 

Books read, chapters written, and dungeons plundered; all in all, a pretty good day. Teeth brushed, yawns yawned, and clothes changed; all things considered, a pretty decent way to start the night. On my bed I stare at the ceiling with open eyes, their heavy eyelids now fluttering with weightlessness. I’m seeing, hearing, feeling what I couldn’t in the day’s white static noise- ghosts and angels and demons from my past are mixed in with the concerns of the present and wonderment of the future. I had come to bed ready to stay there and now, like weeks of nights before this one, I can only think about being awake and if only I didn’t have much to do the next day, maybe I would, maybe I could, maybe I-

 

 

 


 

 

I think my most recent entries into the flash fiction department (boy do I really have to update those two pages with the more recent stuff) are showing a kind of Renaissance in my work, returning me back to my roots of childhood adventure and “what-if” style reflections. Maybe because looking back we have the lens of nostalgia and wonderment. Well, it’s that or I just like sticking incompetent people (read, “children”) into very complicated and odd situations like, oh say, trying to resurrect a dead pet.

It’s funny and heartwarming, trust me!

I feel like I need to do that a lot, yell and proclaim that I’m not the worst person ever.

 

 

Good luck, you brave writer folk!

 

END TRANSMISSION.

 

 

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