Honor rolled over, kicked at the doona. Shane was breathing quietly as usual. Her demons were hers alone. It had been five years since the thing with Cleo. He’d said it had been a mistake. Everything about their lives together now was positive. Every daytime hour she counted the blessings of their being together. But sometimes at night the memories—all anger and sadness and confusion—pushed back. It would have been different if she could have walked away—but Cleo wasn’t someone she could so easily turn from. So she’d been a sisterly sister through every family gathering and every celebration, even if her heart wasn’t in it. But what a twist to have to be Cleo’s saviour now. They’d be taking one of Honor’s kidneys in a week—a perfect match. She didn’t exactly begrudge it. She and Cleo had grown up together, after all, and Len was a great guy. They were hoping to start a family together. He deserved the years with his wife that only Honor’s kidney could provide. So Honor would guard her silence again—twist her feelings into a knot no one else could see. She’d carry it through life, alongside the admiration of all and sundry for an act of selfless love she would know was no love at all.
Richard Holt stories 1 Minute
Published by Richard Holt
A writer from Melbourne, Richard maintains a number of blogs exploring very short fiction and text-based art practices. His stories and poems have been published in both mainstream and alternative journals and collections. He is also a visual artist and was co-founder of both Platform Artists Group and zine store, Sticky. He continues to publish very short fiction and conduct microfiction workshops for practicing writers, students and others. He has created numerous text-based installations and artworks for public spaces, including at Federation Square, Melbourne and in conjunction with the 2017, Newcastle Writers Festival. View all posts by Richard Holt
2 thoughts on “Bound”
ouch! I love that these little stories are always the absolute crux or apex of the narrative trajectory- I think the format leads us to consider the art of storytelling more than the art of writing. Writing is the mode to tell the story, rather than the end in itself. if that makes sense….
I agree. It’s a challenge not to just write scenes but to make a story – all the elements, voice, characters, plot and a percievable narrative arc. In such a truncated format that arc usually gets resolved at the last moment – adding to the experience of a story having been resolved (even where that resolution is open). I checked out akissforalldays. Great stories. Best of luck. Happy to keep chatting about the challenge and exhiliration very short fiction.