5 Minute Fiction: Through the Bars

Have you ever seen a picture and thought, “God, there’s a whole book in that one image…” This is a little flash fiction for one of those pictures.

Ages 18+ only please, for dark subject matter.

“Don’t. It’s not your fault.”

“We need to get water. When was the last time you ate? Look, try to find a hollow by the window while it’s still raining. We don’t have any way to carry it but we can drink now, maybe soak it up into our clothes for later. But no, if we wear them the sweat might ruin it. Salt. Salt counteracts hydration.”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“The fuck it–” His shout cracked into silence, then a whisper. “Don’t lie to me. I’m not weak, Mari. I can take it. You know I can get us out of here.”

“Okay.” She agreed even though it took all her energy because it was the one tool she could pass to him. Through the wall between them, the bars on the front of their cells, too tight to even wind a finger through to his side. Strength.

“Can you walk?”

“Yes,” she lied.

“Tonight,” he said. “Drink as much as you can and if they bring us food, I’ll use my shoe to push my tray over in front of your cell and I want you to eat every bite, even if you’re not hungry. You understand?”

“I understand. What time?”

She closed her eyes, the tear fat and round where it caught between her eyelashes.

He said a number, and she countered with a larger one. He agreed.

“I’m going to be quiet for a while, okay? Save my strength. I don’t want them to hear us talking, anyway.”

“Okay. Can I—okay. Tonight, Mari. I promise you. I fucking swear.”

“Tonight,” she whispered back, the last of her strength passing from her lips with the word, traveling through the space between them. She could give him those hours, all those hours of hope. It wouldn’t be enough.

But with hope, there was never enough, was there?