Rob Jackson

Flash Fiction 7.31.21: Sweet Talk of the Lived

PART I. Life ain’t sweet grandson. At my age all my senses betray me, acting on memories, uninterested in my will, or the time on my wrist. Sound and sight were once my trusted accomplices, confirming instinct and action. But now, the sound of a freight train crack-cracking along, sends my mind echoing back. I get by, ignoring that, but it's the hiss, the whispering end, that makes me.