Severed arms and pain medication

[brosedshield]

In real life, I've lost an appendix and feel pretty much like crap, except for moments like this when I throw coherency to the wind and take a pain pill (in which case the word becomes all soft and warm, blurry and my back and stomach stop hurting).

In the other real world, I haven't been writing much (note the blurry part under pain pills), but my brain has been buzzing and apparently likes being in creepy world.

I was reading someone else's work (I don't think they are on LJ) and there were severed arms, so I wrote something about severed arms, not at all connected to the inspiration. Showed it to lavinialavender and she said "You should post it!"

Original flash fiction, untitled, some profanity, and, yo, severed arms and obsession

So The arm was all they found, in my wife’s car, with my wife’s purse. It was my wife’s wedding ring, but not her hand. The cops looked at me in pity and derision when I told them, the hysteria bubbling up in my voice, that that was not my wife’s fucking arm, but what the hell did they know? Had they kissed that hand, taken those fingers into their mouthes, memorized every freckle, become familiar with that loving touch?

If they had I should kill them all.

But they hadn’t. I identified the ring Yes, that was Juliet’s and they marked down that she was dead but it wasn’t fucking true.

Since that day I have been looking for my wife. She’s with someone willing to cut arms off of young women with manicured fingernails, and she doesn’t wear a wedding ring.

I hope she’s dead, because otherwise she left me for some other psycho, and I don’t think I could deal with that.

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