A flash in Flash Friday

Here and then I was riddled by the sun and set to mark by some unseen hand. My bearings, ciphered, proved me here and now; then. We walk through time in a straight line; I teeter, crooked. Once I woke in a white room with white sheets and a man in white asked me if I had flashbacks.

“Like unprovoked vivid memories of trauma? No. You?”

When I found my bearings and clothes I left, riddled by the sun, and guided wayward by some hand I could not see.

Once, here and then, I woke in the wind in the back of an old pick-up. A man had been and is talking to me, he tells me that hand is god. I tell him of my last memory as though it were a flashback.

“There’s only a few ways of taking over the world and controlling it. Blow up so much shit in such a cruel and ruthless way that every motherfucker on the ground thinks the only choices are submission or death. Blow up just enough shit to make just enough people believe it’s submission or death and let them deal with the rest. Or, make the world a lot smaller.”

“What does that mean love?”

“We tie off baby and it’s just you and me and god; we slide skin to skin and god reboots.”

“You sure talk pretty, you might be crazy, but in a real pretty kind of way. I’ll cook, you tie.”

He stops talking and has stopped talking and looks out to the prairie where nothing perceivable is happening. We both know that’s not true, you and I.

Sometimes, here and then, I marvel that the world has left me to my own devices, careful not to marvel aloud; I think it might just be a happy accident.