Rosie Garcia

“Smokey” by Rosie Garcia

Hello. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? That's funny. Of course, time is a funny thing. For example, today is the third of November. I don’t think you knew that, beforehand. What year is it, do you think? Is it last year? Is it this year? Or is it some year that hasn’t happened yet? That doesn’t matter, or course, as the only time we can really deal with is the present. The future is something to be plotted for, and the past is something to use in your plots. Nothing more than that.  You do not need this kind of chat right now, though. Yo...

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“London Bridge” by Rosie Garcia

Submitted to Contest #101

“All the stars are falling down, falling down, all the stars are falling down tonight.“ Your humming pierces the velvet that has been so carefully laid across the night sky. The stars, of course, aren’t falling down in the slightest. They have no reason to do so, and falling is a most graceless act that the stars think they’re better than. Realy, though, everybody falls. I saw the North Star trip over their shoelaces just last week.  But we’re not talking about the stars. We happen to be talking, or narrating, about you. You are the c...

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“Maybe It's The Sun” by Rosie Garcia

You’re tired of doing this. You’re very, very tired. You are tired of leaving the rickety old wooden door to slam behind you, the false mire of protection you thought it had evaporating into the night air. Night, of course, because you never seem to get up early enough to enjoy the sunrise.  The sunset, though, it's different now. You’re noticing that for the third time this evening, as you sling your coat over your shoulders. You’re not even putting it on all the way, just letting the old thing hang like a cape. What are you the capta...

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“Memory Lane” by Rosie Garcia

Submitted to Contest #96

It’s always raining here.  There’s a cloudy blanket resting over this city. That doesn’t mean that the rain isn’t friendly, of course. The little pinpricks of crying clouds are there to brighten the tea lights everyone puts up about their doorways, to crystallize the street signs and the tree leaves that hang over them like bowing royals. You always wondered what brought the royals to bow like that. A scandal would be too cheap for the elite figures who watch over the streets of your new home. Perhaps one of them lost a fight, and now ...

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“Watch the Fireflies” by Rosie Garcia

Submitted to Contest #93

You're lost. You're lost. Lost among the lights that shield you from the void overhead. Lost from your companions. Lost from the cheerful babble that accompanies such a cluster of people. Lost, lost, lost. Maybe you lost them, maybe they lost you. There's a lot of losing going on. Shhh, calm down. Calm down. It's okay, there's nothing in the shadows. There's nothing to jump out at you. You've not been kidnapped by some kind of nightmarish clown. Everything is fine. Now, think. Where are you? What were you doing beforehand? You were with ...

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“The Explosion” by Rosie Garcia

Submitted to Contest #89

There are two people sitting on opposite sides of a table. One of them does not have red hair. The other does not have blue eyes. They're talking. Here, I'll turn the sound on. There we go. "You do know why you're in here, right?" The one without red hair asks, gently, politely. The one who does not have red hair stays quiet. There is nothing for them to say, not really. "I don't." The one without red hair is surprised that the one without blue eyes has admitted that they do not know something. The one without blue eyes keeps talking, and t...

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“You Remember” by Rosie Garcia

I remember that day very well. I remember when you walked down the street, almost home, earbuds in and smiling at the world. There was a lot for you to smile at, I think. You were coming home from a date with your girlfriend, weren’t you? Never found her body.  You’re walking down a similar street now, but it’s not your street anymore. This one is wrought with broken fences, with blood painting the cement in wispy stripes. Smoke is choking the air bitterly, as if air has a neck to choke, and… There, that’s another rotten corpse. Someon...

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“She's Proud of You” by Rosie Garcia

Submitted to Contest #79

Why are you still there? I’ve told you to leave time and time again. But you’re there, in the forest. I can see the little wisps of fog that cloud up the air in front of you, so it’s got to be cold down there. Come on, you know this is pointless. But you’re still running. There’s nothing behind you, nothing to chase you but your own thoughts. Isn’t the cold tearing at your throat? Don’t your legs hurt? Don’t you realize how beautifully pointless it all is? I suppose you don’t, because you’re still running like mad. It’s crazy, you know this ...

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“Beginning of the End” by Rosie Garcia

Submitted to Contest #77

Well. Here you are. All the way at the beginning of the end. You’re staring at the snow, aren’t you? Like it holds the answers to your questions? You don’t have any questions. But it seems that you think there are answers. Answers to why it is only the beginning of the end, when so much has already gone wrong. That’s not a question; it’s a statement. There is a lot of thinking to be done. Thinking about how you could stay here, and remain quiet in your ways, to halt the end in its tracks. That’s how it’s supposed to work, right? If you do no...

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“Albany?” by Rosie Garcia

Submitted to Contest #64

It’s haunted here. I don’t know if they believe me, though. I don’t think it’s haunted in the way one would expect. None of the ghosts will listen to me when I talk to them, or shout at them, or scream at them in the middle of the night when it seems I’ve lost my mind. And maybe I have lost my mind. I wouldn’t know. I should be used to this, you know. I should be a lot of things, but it seems that I am nothing in the eyes of both myself and those who wander the corridors ceaselessly. I wonder about them. The ghosts seem so tired, and the loo...

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“It's Okay” by Rosie Garcia

Submitted to Contest #62

We’re leaving. I know that. I know a few too many things, if you ask me. Sometimes it gets to be too much, and I think I’m going mad, then I forget a little and it’s all okay again. Right now, it’s okay again, because I’ve managed to forget everything but this. We’re leaving. Not in the way most people would expect, though. The entire world is something most people wouldn’t expect. Then again, most people aren’t here to expect it. They’re all dead. Which is a pity, I’ll grant you that. Maybe it’s a good thing. There isn’t much left of the he...

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“Stolen Library ” by Rosie Garcia

Submitted to Contest #61

“There are going to be questions, you know.” Of course I know. They’re forgetting just how much I know. “Maybe we should take you to a therapist,” They continue, oblivious to the fact that I’m half-asleep by now, “Would that work out? Last time…Yeah, we don’t need to start another fight.” Why would they say that? There’s nothing wrong with me. It’s just a fascination. The previous therapist deserved it, too many questions. Now I have a reputation, I suppose. “Are you listening to me?” Yes, I’m listening. I’m always listening. That’s whe...

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