Of course no one could see it or feel it and pass it off as a fairy tale so this became her lifelong secret. The days turned to weeks and still the rip was there, never witnessed or talked about by anyone else. She started to doubt herself and took to drawing the fraying rip in the sky, every week documenting its change.
As that hard winter turned to a wet but vibrant spring, the small poppy withered away to be replaced by a scattering of rusted leaves that fell through with a persistent rain. It was then she realised that beyond the tear this world lived in the opposite season and that even night was day – she could sit and watch the full moon rise by the light of a breaking dawn. When she ran through the garden in summer disturbing the dandelion seeds, they would float softly on warm currents and mingle with the delicate snowflakes blown across from the ever growing rip.
It grew higher and wider as she grew, until as a grown woman, she could stand in front of it watching the winds from both worlds pull and warp the sides, tearing it further. It grew to resemble the shape of a lock and it was only a matter of time before she saw another face looking back at her.
FlashFlood is brought to you by National Flash-Fiction Day UK, happening this year on 27th June 2015.
In the build up to the day we have now launched our Micro-Fiction Competition (stories up to 100 words) and also our annual Anthology (stories up to 500 words). So if you have enjoyed FlashFlood, why not send us your stories?More information about these and the Day itself available at nationalflashfictionday.co.uk.