Light Pollution

this is a "flash fiction" piece i wrote for my creative writing class, i am refraining from making major changes right now because it is exactly 300 words and i think that is magical.

“I’m tired.”

“I know. We’re almost there.” I look back into her drooping eyes and tired but indulgent smile, pulling her along by her limp left arm. I feel bad but she had agreed to come with me of her own free will. Although, I had only said that it was two miles, I hadn’t mentioned how much of the journey would be uphill. I was certain that she was going to quit and turn around and go home when she tripped for the second time on the dirt path through the woods, but she stuck with me. I liked that about Sarah.

As we reached the top of the hill I felt the cool night air ruffle my clothes and push my hair off my hot forehead. We stood for a moment and looked out at the city, spread before us like a hundred glistening glass marbles scattered across my grandmother’s rug in a fiery beam of late weekday afternoon sun. 

“Wow.” She said, I glance at her and I am pleased to see her eyes searching the endless black horizon. “This was almost worth walking all the way up here.”

The night is still up here, apart from the crickets: the car alarms and train whistles and sirens are all silent for a moment, miles away from us; we might as well be on neptune. It makes me breathless, I want to sink into the earth and never leave this spot. I want to disintegrate and become the night air brushing against her alabaster cheeks. I want to count the points of light and write a story about each and every sleepless soul in this city. I want to grow roots and forget civilization ever happened. 

Sarah shrugs, “Let’s go home, Peter. I think something just bit me.”

Author's Note

until i decide to do something with this it is staying the way it is.

Reviews

[TLK]

"I look back into her drooping eyes and tired but indulgent smile, pulling her along by her limp left arm."

The number of adjectives saps the potential for action, and threatens to crowd out your word count with redundancy. This whole paragraph is about trying to pull an unwilling walker up a hill. You could say this very directly, allowing you more poetry in the penultimate paragraph -- which is what you need, as the final line is supposed to prick this feeling with banality and selfishness.

[Elle Thompson]

My father used to give the same criticism. I guess I never outgrew my weakness for long, winding sentences with lots of adjectives. Thanks for reading.

[Samuel Dickens]

Very well-written, and the last sentence made me smile. (Sounds just like my wife) I initially thought they were in car, driving someplace until the words "trip" and "path" came up. Perhaps if the first sentence read something like "My feet are tired," there would be no confusion.

[Elle Thompson]

Thanks for reading