Thursday, June 16, 2016

Vainglory of the Pandering Soul

artwork by SK 2009
Flash Fiction (144 words)

I see the age in front of your senses. #iceage Icy waters fountains and waterfalls. I see his busy footfalls at mount Hayabuschi. Is pander a real job, I ask him. No, he says, rivers flow when kings are made. He says he panders only to kings. Why? What’s so great about kings? 

They can’t even fly. I can.

But what is constant on Earth for birds to find their way back after northern migration, he asks? All forests looks the same from up there. All rivers glitter. What men can build will let birds not flounder. Pyramids are just the tip of the fountain. Man has mapped the earth for birds. It is now their turn to give back.

But what do I have to give? One forty four is the limit of my speech.

Forget speech. Sing bird. That’s what he said. 

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