Scene from "Anna Karenina" , 1914 Russian film by Vladimir Gardin (via Flash! Friday)
Barabashka is wailing, from below, though I broke bread and salt pieces last night after he pinched – sharp - to prompt them from me. I hold blankets tight over my ears, to no avail. His neglect grows louder, penetrating my covered hollow. Bruises the length of my arms, throbbing, I creep through his domain; rules drawn dusky in reminder on the hearth. We guarded one another once; before.
I spy traces of his finger marks as gusts extinguish the candles, swift. The stove is unlit, tonight. I shuffle, slowly; sound a guide as I shiver onward. Pitch prevails as I grope into the unknown. He has not abandoned post – this I know. There is yet a way to tell what follows. I feel for his form, as Mama told me – to feel his hand in mine. Ice answers me, fur freezing. Eyes watering, I hug myself hard; inevitable cold comfort.
The challenge this week - based, unsurprisingly, around "Anna Karenina" was to take two of the elements from the text and produce a piece of flash fiction. I chose conflict and tradition. The piece needed to be 100-150 words.
This received an Honourable Mention this week, which I was extremely pleased to find out!