Flash Fiction by Jamie Lammers
“Find me.”
The phrase circles my head like a swallow in midair. It’s erratic, almost intangible as it blurs by, frenzied. It shouts at me, and the sound keeps cutting in and out, increasing and decreasing in volume as the phrase moves from left to right around my head. It’s desperate, begging, crying out for me to help. But how can I help? It’s already too late.
I see the phrase spelled out in front of me as it morphs into something else. A real swallow. One swallow starts to become two. Then three. Then more. They fly around me, curious about what I am. Now, I’m standing in the middle of a field, the grass around me browning as it starts to die, a light fog in the atmosphere. I see her walking towards me, her face hidden by a red umbrella.
She stops and lifts her umbrella above her head. She flashes a smile at me, her teeth sparkling. I freeze, unable to do anything but awkwardly wave at her. She curtsies before inquiring how I managed to get these beautiful birds to revolve around me. I find myself in my comfort zone again. For a moment, I can forget how breathtaking I find her and tell her they do this all the time. I monologue, explaining that whenever I visit this field, they always seem curious about my earthly body, one that lacks hollow bones and wings and is never able to join them as they flap and dive through the sky. I tell her it must be nice to fly. As I finish my thoughts, I’m reminded of her unwavering, confident presence. I freeze again as I notice her looking up and following the birds with her head. She’s grinning. She looks at me again and grins even wider. I let myself relax. I close my eyes. I inhale…
…and I exhale. The swallows disappear as quickly as they came. I’m traveling through an image of us on a roller coaster, grabbing each other’s hands in fear as the ride slowly moves up a ramp. As it speeds down the opposite end of the ramp, we bring our hands up and cheer in elation, still keeping them together. The scene abruptly changes to a starry night. The sky is filled with small specks that capture the imagination. As she kisses me, her touch on my cheek is so… soft. Everything about her is so soft. The scene changes once again to a cabin in the woods. I hold her and kiss her head as we look out the window and watch the snow fall softly to the ground. She looks up at me and whispers in my ear that it must be nice to fly. As I start to imagine the scenario, I let myself relax again. I close my eyes again. I inhale…
…and I exhale. Suddenly, I’m running to catch up to her. I see her in the distance, and I’m sprinting as she looks back at me one more time. She’s on the edge of a cliff, waves crashing hundreds, maybe thousands of feet below her. I shout, but no words come out. There’s nothing I can do to stop the inevitable. She doesn’t stumble. She doesn’t wait. Instead, she calmly looks down, looks forward again, takes a step, and falls off the ledge. My self-preservation instinct kicks in just before I fall off with her. I feel my feet slide over the ground as I stop. I fall onto my face, and I catch myself looking just over the edge of the cliff. I can’t look away as she slowly vanishes into a small speck that captures the imagination. It must be nice to fly. I’m hyperventilating now. There’s nothing I can do. Unless… I try to relax, and I close my eyes again. I inhale…
…and I feel the wind taken out of me as I come crashing back down to reality. I cough as I exorcise that nightmare. I dust myself off and look around, disoriented. I’m leaning against a dead tree. The leaves are long gone and the bark is starting to crumble. I’m on top of a hill, in front of an empty street. She’s standing in the center of the street, a red umbrella in her hand. Even from this distance, I can see her teeth sparkle as she smiles at me. I smile back. As her smile starts to dissipate, so does mine. She covers her face with her umbrella and starts walking down the street, the centered yellow lines running underneath her legs. I barrel down the hill to catch up to her, my eyes watering as I feel the wind rush through me. By the time I find myself where she was, she’s gone. I look to my left. There’s nothing. I look to my right. There’s a small red speck in the distance. It captures my imagination as I hear the last words she whispered in my ear as a goodbye. I’m sure they will echo in my head permanently, as an ache that will never dull or dissipate. I will always yearn for the day when I can make that phrase leave me forever.
“Find me. Find me. Find me.”
Jamie Lammers is a current senior at the University of Colorado Boulder with a major in creative writing, minors in film and music, and a certificate in Native American and Indigenous Studies. He loves everything about art and humanity — theater, music, writing, art, film, storytelling, history, culture, psychology, and fun facts in general!
