Tiny Flaming Arrows
I wrote this piece as a journal entry, but it’s fitting enough for its own piece. I hope that you enjoy. image from Adobe Stock. The package, delivered at ground level, travels up five feet. Wrapped in its container, its contents are covered with bubble wrap so they appear smaller than a microorganism. At the top floor, it swells, expanding from the inside until there’s nowhere left to go. The invisible seams stretch with the strain of containing such a multiplication, until it can’t hold itself together. The interwoven fabric tears itself apart. Infinite invaders spill out, all dressed in identical salmon pink. The color of my brain. They latch onto every surface they can reach and begin to drill through my mind. My body fights to pull them apart, to cease the pain, but victory requires a buildup of power. Until then, the soldiers will pray.