flashfiction

here is something i wrote for another blog. the method is called flash fiction, and the rules are that the piece cannot be more than three hundred words. i had twenty four hours to write down what the voices inside my head were saying. the theme was "the main character is trying to justify a lie".


“i’m sure you have a passion for something: dandelions, wit, keanu reeves? it all comes from the same place. it is balancing delicately upon purpose. without purpose fires burn less bright and edges cut less sharply. i think that energy once put into pursuit becomes stagnant with circular thought that goes something like, ‘i should be doing something. but what difference does it make?’ i felt the first twinges of this purposelessness in high school, around the time that i started questioning everything. i remember using the word ‘why’ more than anyone else in my classes. when i turned that curiosity upon myself the answer came back all-too-frequently…”

“because that’s the way it’s always been.”

“yeah. i got sick of that phrase pretty quickly. at first it felt like a great weight made of metal and uniforms and politeness had been lifted from me. we all crave freedom in at least some form, right? well i got high off it. my idea of happiness became entwined with freedom so much that everything else became background noise. but what i thought was contentment was only a thinly veiled attempt to justify complacency. i can honestly say that i was happier before i grew up. before i embraced the bleakness of existence. nihilism makes me think but it doesn’t make me happy.

“even so, i can’t believe in god.”

“i don’t either. but my children are christians.”

“huh. want to grab a martini?”