Fence

A Substack exclusive flash fiction

Content warnings: disturbing images, suicide themes.

Hand shielding my eyes, I squint at the glowing fruit.

My trees are blooming, yet their branches hang heavy. Apples, pears, peaches are nuggets of gold nestled in nests of flower petals. Bees flutter in the morning twilight. Their legs are sticky with nectar. Tits sing.

I’ve left my orchard to the bugs and worms, but I find it glowing and smelling of apricots and flowers.

I spread my arms, breeze strokes my ribs. My head is sharp like it hasn’t been in years. My mouth is fresh, and I breathe without my morning thirst.

I remember Ivo. If I’ve awakened to a garden of gold, he must be bathing in milk and honey. He’s always been better. Tending to his land when I sleep, looking after his parents when I drink.

“Ivo!”

I rush to the wattle fence between our yards. We’ve grown up along that fence — throwing snow balls over it, digging for treasure. Ivo the achiever… and me.

He’s my best friend, my brother. Ivo would know what to do with all my gold, sort me out.

I burst through the squeaky gate, and wince as my feet sink into something warm and soft.

I look down and my stomach churns. My feet are ankle deep in feces. White maggots crawl through the brown mush and up my legs.

I shriek and trudge through Ivo’s orchard, suffocating in the hot stench. My eyes sting with salty sweat.

“Ivo! Where are you?”

No fruit, no blossom. Just rotting black branches covered with worms.

I hear a dog whimpering and slog towards the sound.

In place of the sun, a clump of intestines glows in the sky, dripping blood onto my friend’s shoulders.

Ivo hangs on a branch. Peeled eyelids, dead eyeballs lying bulging in their sockets, emitting a faint white glow onto his devastated garden. His dog Sharo circles around him. Barks. Jumps high, trying to reach his master but merely grazes his toes. Sharo whimpers every time he lands back in the filth.

My ribs of lead squeeze my lungs as I plod towards my friend.

“Ivo!”

I bend over, put his legs on my shoulders and rise.

“Please!”

I straighten. Sharo stands with paws on my legs, eager to help. I rise and rise on my toes, until my calves burn and cramp. I lift as high as I can. But Ivo’s spine buckles. His body slumps over my head.

I stand with my friend on my shoulders and his dog crying at my feet, my eyes burning with salt. Over the fence, my garden still glows.

One idles and gets gold. One works and swings on the rope.

---

Author’s note: Hope you “liked” this. Make sure you check out Noir Laddies, my flash fiction collection, available on Amazon worldwide! This weekend—totally free in e-book! Download, read and review!