A Small World
flash fiction, romance
Published on:
April 19, 5:19pmWord Count:
777Work Description
Just something personal.
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I once had a world which had no name.
We created our bubble of reality together without meaning to, and after only a short amount of time, it became our one place of true comfort. It was small for a world, I guess. Four and a half by six feet, if I recall correctly. We never worried about the limitations too much, though, since there were only two of us, and we had no trouble sharing the space.
The little world was in a room of my house that was usually unoccupied, save for when we had guests who needed a place to sleep. They slept in that same spot before it was ours. That was before it was special.
Then, one day, he came to the house. He was going to stay with my family for a couple weeks, so he inherited the room and slept on that bed. On the morning of our first full day together, I crept down from my own bedroom and entered his. The room didn’t feel the same anymore with him in it. When I first laid down beside him and felt his arms wrap around me, everything else went quiet.
It was as if everything else had paused to politely give us the moments we wanted in peace. Suddenly, the top of that mattress was our entire world, because we forgot that there were other things going on elsewhere. It became a refuge, a place we would go to be alone together, and a place that we felt a strong need to explore.
There were a select number of inhabitants of our world. We were really the only people, but objects such as the bedside clock, the pillows and a bottle of water became things to play with and use and share space with. There were other things that would occasionally end up there with us, but those three were the only ones that were almost always present and often used.
The weather in our world changed from day to day, and hour to hour. Sometimes it was calm, and we would just lie together and talk and stare at the ceiling or at each other. Other times it was overcast, and rainy, and we would find our emotions running away from us as we explored the sad, dark places. Sometimes it was bright and sunny, and we’d laugh and play and hold on to each other to keep from tumbling off the sides, not daring to touch the floor in fear of breaking our discovered peace.
And other times, there was lightning. Sparks would hit the sheets, and soon the whole bed was aflame, and us with it, and most times we would allow ourselves to burn with it until the fire had quenched itself, leaving us sweating on the sheets of invisible ashes of our innocence.
Our world was our only way of anchoring ourselves in a time of many tumultuous emotions and thoughts. We needed one place where we could go, just the two of us, in order to figure everything out and see what would come of it. We needed to be alone and without distractions. It is only in silence that truth can emerge, and we were determined to discover the truths of each other in the short amount of time that we had been granted.
I’d like to say I found myself in that place, but I’m not quite sure what that statement would completely entail. Instead, I’ll say that it’s where we found each other, after so long of waiting.
When I returned to the room after he had left, the silence was overwhelming. I sat myself on the bed and looked around, but the feeling of seclusion had left with him. At first, this made me feel like my heart was being ripped in two, since I had hoped to continue using that world as a place of comfort in our time apart.
When I sat and thought more, I realized that it wasn’t that bed that was so special. Our world could be created whenever we were together, regardless of the place. We could find solitude in each others arms, not on a double bed with a bottle of water and stained bed sheets. When we see each other again, thousands of miles from our first meeting, that pocket of reality will be there as well, somewhere in his home away from
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Something personal. Thank you for sharing.
I liked it very much although I felt abit confused, had to read it twice.
When I returned to the room after he had left, the silence was overwhelming. I sat myself on the bed and looked around, but the feeling of seclusion had left with him. At first, this made me feel like my heart was being ripped in two, since I had hoped to continue using that world as a place of comfort in our time apart.
confused
certain spots were overly vivd ,which leads to lacking in clarity.
The room didn’t feel the same anymore with him in it.
I get the feeling of this room, which is special ...But then too little description of the same room prior to the intimacy of the two characters.
When I first laid down beside him and felt his arms wrap around me, everything else went quiet.
Had difficulty connecting with the characters
It felt sad. Which I guess is the point.
I hope it was of some help and thank you for sharing.
Keep doing what you doing
warmth from Sherry.
There are few words for how I feel about your piece. It's simply amazing, to say the least. You have managed to capture a lot with the simplest words. You almost pulled my heart from my chest. Bravo!
I didn't see that there was really a plot so much, but more of a scenario and a memory. You didn't need any actions in here, though. It was beautifully constructed not support an expression of just that -- a scenario and a memory.
Perfect pacing. I love how you used the objects and descriptions as a transitions. Particularly, I really liked the following:
When I sat and thought more, I realized that it wasn’t that bed that was so special. Our world could be created whenever we were together, regardless of the place. We could find solitude in each others arms, not on a double bed with a bottle of water and stained bed sheets
I think I've said enough on descriptions... absolutely wonderful, marvelous. I love how you use them to your advantage in telling the story.
BRAVO!!!!!! 
Keep up the excellent work!
You do seem to have a knack for writing. I particularly enjoyed your first line. You do a good job with setting up the sort of mystery as to what the space actually is. Then it is revealed:
The little world was in a room of my house that was usually unoccupied, save for when we had guests who needed a place to sleep. They slept in that same spot before it was ours. That was before it was special.
I would change "The little world.." to "This little world..." Just a tiny change, but I think it makes it more specific. I also don't know if the last two sentences are needed. The first sentence establishes that it was a guest bedroom, the last two sentences expand on that, but it doesn't seem necessary to the story. But I do like what you're doing. You seem to be setting it up as a "normal" place that becomes this fantastic creation. So maybe give a physical description of the room to showcase its normalcy.
This also brings me to the issue of description. While I certainly think emotional descriptions and feelings are described well, I don't get a lot in the physical realm. There was something in this work that made it hard for me to connect to it and I think this might be it. I think short pieces are strong because of the images they leave you with. Two of my favorite short stories (The Way Fire Talks to Wood by Christine Boyka Kluge; and The Harvest, by Amy Hempel) I can still picture the images they left with me. You have the ability to write beautifully and beautiful physical descriptions would really help this piece out.
For example:
And other times, there was lightning. Sparks would hit the sheets, and soon the whole bed was aflame, and us with it, and most times we would allow ourselves to burn with it until the fire had quenched itself, leaving us sweating on the sheets of invisible ashes of our innocence.
This portrays emotion, passion, and leaves a great physical image, even though it's all symbolic. The last line might need a few tweaks, adding a "the" before "invisible;" and maybe not using the word "innocence." I think that word is overused when it comes to expressing maturity and sexual experiences.
The other thing that kept me distant was the characters. Neither of them are named and there is nothing that makes me feel attracted to this love interest the narrator has. I think some dialogue--something short and profound perhaps--might really bring these characters to life and give them somtehing to make the reader really love them both.
I really loved the way the story goes full circle. Perhaps I'm dense though, because I'm not sure how the last line fits. If this world can be anywhere then I don't see why the world has two names. Unless those names are 'bedroom" and "anywhere." Or maybe those names are the names of the nameless characters. Either way, I guess it wasn't clear to me what the two names were.
Overall, I think you have a fine piece of work. You write really well and fluidly. It flows. You portray emotion well. Good job! And thanks for sharing.
I really like how personal this piece came across. You did an excellent job of making the reader feel like you meant what you were saying. Whether this is because it's a true story or not doesn't really matter. Even true stories, if not written well, don't come across this.. emotionally. Well done.
There was one thing that confused me, though this may just be me. The switch between "we" and "he" really threw me. Again, this may just be me. When I started reading, I thought there was an "I," the narrator, and some mysterious other first person person, the second half of "we." When you introduced "he," I thought he was a third person. When you said "Then, one day, he came to the house," I expected the story to shoot off in some direction about how "he" came and ruined everything. As I continued to read, I realized "he" was really the second half of "we." He is, right? I feel like if you're saying "we" then "he" should be "you." Does that make sense?
I only noticed one typo. In the last paragraph on the first page you say:
We could find solitude in each others arms.
"Others" should have an apostrophe.
Overall, excellent story. Again, very emotional.
Hi Karissa,
Your story is beautiful. I could feel all the emotion you must have put into writing it.. I found myself trying to figure out who you were writing about, but then when I looked up to the title of the story, it said,"Something personal,." It's a very well written piece, but beautiful and sad, at the same time. It almost reads like a prose poem. I couldn't really find anything to critique about it, but thanks for sharing this personal experience.
Cathy