A World of Words (Last Line First)

Murad’s eyes are anticipation – his mouth reconstructing the merest remnants of the stories as he steps beyond Neolexia’s haphazard turrets, piled paper high.  Words whisper upon his ears as he walks between a set of shelves; searching beyond their reaches.  Half-recollected, half-misremembered – a kaleidoscope of letters drip freely from his lips as he salivates, moving deeper towards the centre of the construct. Vowels and consonants are crisp curlicues winding themselves about his tongue as he moves further in; hoping to hold them in his head.  Sharp and sweet by turns, they settle onto the fungiform papillae; a teasing ephemeral tickle – before burrowing beneath.  Murad exhales, eyelids fluttering. Casting himself carelessly backwards, he is cushioned amidst sestina, tristich and recueillement, carefully woven and tacked together – held in place by their lines  

horizontal;

v

e

r

t

i

c

a

l;

Overt                                                    ly

skew

whiff.     

Words work once more upon him.

Murad stirs as blank spaces begin to form where words once danced and dwelt.  Slowly – reluctantly - he raises himself from the hardwood floorboards, blinking.  He knows he will return again, though he cannot say why.  The words he would search for are elusive; nonextant.

Comment

This one was written for a new flash fiction prompt - Last Line First - which encourages people to write based on a closing line as the original inspiration for their new piece.  No prizes as such - just a great excuse to write a piece of flash of up to 200 words.

I set out consciously wanting to write something connected to the concept of words and synaesthesia within this piece.