Staunching the Flow
by Maegan Heil
On day five of the nosebleeds she thought, You know what, fuck it, and dug out two Light tampons from the bag where she kept them. “You’re not going to do what I think you are,” the first said as she peeled the paper off its back. “Omigod, she is—its shrieks muted as she shoved its length of cotton into her nasal cavity. She unwrapped the second, and it too shook its head. “Please, no—it started, “Ummghhrrrph!!!!”
Ahhh, she thought, and plopped down in the living room with a magazine, but could not read, not with her lips being tickled by strings, not with her sinuses bulging—the bastard on the left trying to worm his way out.
“You know what? Fine!” She stood. Strode into the kitchen and pulled open the bin to the trash. Yanked the pipey one by his frays and thunked him down with the wads of tissue, blotted with red.
A trickle of wet. The taste of rusty nails. The one that had plunged through the heel of Ron’s foot, sent him to the hospital. She took his picture off the shelf and went to the bathtub to bleed. They would be together again soon.
Happy Mae, FRESH MEATers!
And thank you for reading my latest short short story.
Is it just me, or has this month, like, totally flown by???!
I don’t know about you, but the nonstop go-go-go that comes with this lovely open-window weather has officially left its paper sack on my doorstep. But thanks to micro-fiction, I’ve managed to dance around the shit-stinking flames and still type the words THE END on a handful of 200-or-so-word stories.
(Although truth be told, on these very short shorts, I don’t actually type the words, THE END1. Because to me, these stories are so short that they almost kind of don’t end, do they? Me, I like to think these characters have a life of their own. That they continue on long after I set down the pen.)
And speaking of life, how’s your-all’s going? What tricks do you pull when summer go-dome grabs you by the shorts? Let me know in the comments.
Until we MEAT again,
🥩🥩
bonus time-lapse footage:
(me writing)
Okay, fine, I’ve written THE END like twice ever.
After reading this story, I scheduled a tetanus shot.
I decided to list my house for sale in January, so I’m sitting here two days past my birthday wondering what the fuck happened. I’ve still managed to put out a few chapters of my new novella, some from a trunk piece, and I started working on it new story over the last week. With all the painting and mudding and cleaning and packing and repairing and even more painting, I’ve just had to say fuck it, ignore it, and just write. Really, it’s the only thing keeping me sane right now. And wine. Thank the gods for wine.🍷