I hate the pain on Anna’s face. It distorts her features. Her tears escape to the ground. A tiny puddle of false hopes and broken promises. She's probably thinking about *him*. “Don't worry, I took care of him. He won't hurt you, again.” Her skin is like velvet under my touch.

I don't blame her for running; I must have startled her. A person can only be hurt so many times before they begin to expect it. It's natural to trust less and question more. “Stop,” I yell. She must not be able to hear me. We tumble to the ground as I try to wrap her up and comfort her.

Her words hurt, but I know that I'm not what she says. It’s my job to make her feel better—to release her from the pain he put her through. I will not fail—not again.

She bites at my hand as I hold the rag over her nose. Her nails claw at my face.

I think I see pieces of my skin underneath the chipped black nail polish. A drop of my blood falls on her skin. “Trust me. It won't hurt anymore…” I pull her up into my arms. “Sleep, my love. You're safe now. You'll stay with me.”

#thriller #microfiction #flashfiction

You use social media to make sure we see only the very best of you. You created a life that is far from the one you live. A keyboard warrior, you take up the fight—any fight. It makes you feel strong, maybe even powerful. But do you know, we see right through you? Every post tells us exactly who you are: swayed by the masses. A pretense. A fraud. Terrified of change while knowing you are lost. Take off the mask and be true to you. You don't need to fear our judgments—you've already condemned yourself to a life that isn't what you want or need. Break through the noise of social media and stand apart as someone true. Be authentic, be you.

Dear Tumbleweed without Roots,

Thank you.

What? Not the book to the back of your head you expected for your selfishness? True, you probably deserve exactly that, but I won't be the one to give you what you deserve. I'm better than that—and I've grown. You see, while you were away I learned a few things.

For that, I thank you.

You found me at my worst: desperate, heartbroken, and terrified. I thank you for taking my hand, as you led me through my darkest time. Scars of battles fought and won, had left me unable to trust, but you broke through that wall. 

For teaching me to trust again, I thank you.

Night after night, you talked to me. You actually listened, which was the craziest part. I’d never been truly heard by a man before.

For teaching me that my thoughts are valuable, I thank you.

As you helped me find my strength to focus and endure through the battle I faced, I came to rely on you. I felt like I needed you to push me, and you did--even beyond what I thought myself capable of doing. You showed me the power of my determination.

For teaching me to ignore the boundaries, I thank you.

When you left, at first I thought my world was crashing in around me because… Well, you were my world.

I lost focus.

I believed I needed you in order to be strong, and I forgot how to be me without you. I wanted to rely on you the way I became accustomed to. The truth is, that first week really sucked. I probably didn't do anything except spill a few coffee cups and tear-stain my favorite pillow.

But not now.

Now, I don't need to check when I see the green light blink on my phone. I know it isn't you.

Now, I don't have to rush to share the latest hilarious thing the kids just did, because I know you aren't there to listen.

Now, I don't feel the need to tell you that I'm going to the store, because you aren't there to notice when I'm gone.

Now, I don't wake up expecting a “good morning” message, because I know it won't be there.

You finally taught me how to no longer miss you—to no longer need you. I know who I am now, without you.

For that, I thank you.

Nostalgically no longer yours,

The Roots from Home.

This thirst...

I cannot quench. 

My stomach growls,

craving a taste I have never known.  

Through the darkness, I go 

with the feeling -- I am not alone. 

Where have they gone? 

Who is here, watching me? 

Something moved.  

I saw the shadow. 

Curiosity sets in -- I have to know. 

Another, waiting for me. 

Now, I know the taste. 

Independence? What it means to me? Well, it should be the same as what it means to you. The pull you felt to explore the infinite space beyond what you could see. Your senses being shocked back to life by the pulse of stars and galaxies as you soar through the onyx horizon. Your eyes finally land on a fresh piece of ground. It looks like a good place to start anew. Inhabited, by the natives. Still, nothing more than an inconvenience. Round us up, young and old. No prejudice, all receive equal treatment. Disoriented by your unfamiliar language. Dangerous, because we cannot head your commands. No threat to you, our demise is near. Who is the alien? The explorers who arrived in a distant land from another planet, or another continent? It matters, not. Remember one thing as you continue your expedition, the cost is high. Independence is not free. Lives were lost for the settlers to assert their independence. Lives will be lost as you attempt to assert yours now. Slavery to bloodguilt is inevitable in the quest for Independence. So, who truly is free? We're not so different after all, you and me. You seek freedom from those who oppress your planet. We seek freedom from those who undermine the ties that bind humanity together. Independence is subjective. In the end, we're all in this together, stand or fall.