Reflecting Revolutions

Flash fiction in a poetic prose.

MariA applies her lipstick.

 

It glisten’s waxen red in the glow of naked flame that fluctuates to punctuate the early evening shade.

 

Scarlet temptation is smoothed left to right within the mirrored confines...

 

 ...then a yell- her name, from somewhere up ahead jolts her.

 

In shock she lurches forward; her painting palm flailing to the side.

 

Reflections of executioners greet her subsequent upturned glare which then follows right to the line of red that somehow besmirches the watered glass.

 

Confused; MariA reaches to touch, (surely there could be no mark made from so far away?), though touch she does not. But it’s so close to her face.

 

Then, finally, to the truth:

 

Deprivation greets the anticipation of sensation at refraction by the frightened face then, as the image stands to turn to fate… the shadow of MariA fades.

 

And the mirror waits the dawning of another regal face.  

Author's Note

This is a new style for me. Thought I'd try something of a 'gothic' approach to socio-political theory for a change.

Reviews

[Thoctar]

Nice! I like the new twist on the topic, very nice indeed. I'm glad you decided to try a new approach, it worked out well. Amazing as usual!