Queen Of
Flash Fiction
Irene gazed back at the eyes in the swamp. They were a sickly yellow ringed with black, sitting wide, on a gaunt face.
Irene had followed its song from the balcony of the manor, across the dewy expanse of backyard, through the cypress trees thick with Spanish moss, and squelching dirt to the water’s edge. Away from the searing lights on her face that flashed and forced her to smile. Away from the grip on her wrist that tugged her into another, congratulations! Away from the glares that stung the back of her head and suits that leaned too close.
It was the most beautiful noise she had ever heard. She pictured it coming from soft, plump lips glossed twice over. Or blushing cheeks caked in pink powder. Instead, the end of her 1st place sash drooped into the mud and her hands fell slack at her sides.
The creature that stared back was pale and boney. It had long, black hair that floated in a gnarled mass of twigs and weeds on the surface of the water. It did not move at first. Only the top of its head peered out from above the water. Those eyes met Irene’s with an unwavering intensity.
Slowly, it rose so that its chin sent little ripples across the sleek, murky surface. With thin, curved lips of a deep blue, it ended its song.
Irene sighed but did not smile. It hurt to smile.
So the creature did instead. It gave Irene the grin of a crocodile and slinked closer. Its sharp teeth glinted in the moon’s reflection through the branches above. Beneath the surface, she saw black scales gleaming on a finned tail.
She slumped to her knees in the mud. She did not care about the ruffled dress that caused her to sweat in the humid summer. She did not care about the heels, a size too small, or the oozing blisters at her ankles. She did not care about the body that had been pruned and prodded since she was a girl. She watched the creature tilt its head. It was curious, waiting for something. A song? From her?
Irene shook her head. She did not want to sing or dance anymore. She wanted to stare and stare at this thing in the dark. This beautiful thing that was bound by no others, no laws, no expectations.
The creature lifted its clawed palm above the surface toward her. In a silky voice, it spoke.
“Sink with me my dear. Begin anew.”
Irene looked at its hand. For the first time in a long time, she made her own choice.
She reached up and removed the pins that held her curls, then pried off her shoes. She stepped over the golden sash left to crumble in the mud. Like a newborn fawn, she staggered forward.
They stood face to face in that obsidian water when Irene placed her hand in the creature’s. Its clawed grip surprisingly gentle, its gaze soft as if it were still waiting. And with her hair tangled and face dirtied, Irene closed her eyes and sunk into the deep abyss.
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