“Stay with me. Please.”
She knows better – she should know better. She should be asking Dara to flee, to save herself at least, to live a long and happy life without her. Love demands it of her. So do her morals. But she can’t stop herself: here in the darkness, half-crushed already and bleeding more than she could survive, she can’t bear the thought of facing death alone.
A part of her hopes that Dara will ignore her dying pleas. But Dara lies down beside her, kissing her hair, fingers laced through mangled flesh.
They wait for the end together.
Written for Flash Fiction Month 2018, day 30. This year I'm also fulfilling a challenge by an anonymous contributor: Every character must be queer.
The rest of today's stories can be found here.
Oh man, I shouldn't read these at work - I'm sniffling a bit now. So sweet, but oh so sad.
I always think the fewer words you have, the harder the story is to write. And this is done so, so well. Only 100 words - and yet absolutely nothing more is needed.
Thank you! I've written a surprising number of drabbles this month - mostly when I needed to recover from the longer pieces - but they're definitely hard in their own way: it's so important to make every word count. I'm glad I've managed it.
A heartbreaking yet warming end. It’s amazing how much emotion you can pack in so few words!
Sad end, but also bittersweet. A really good job.
Sad and sweet.
So much said with so little. Bravo.