A cellphone rings. From the bed.
Boombox stuck in traffic. Blaring number in a soapbox nightclub. Owl hoots swelling, higher and higher into an empty night. Horns heightening, unabashed in a college football game.
My body dripping with urgency, lather drowning my limbs in the bathtub. I inch out, jerk forth my palms as the heat from the phone cooks my moist skin. A voice roars out:
“David – Albertine, your childhood pal just got hit by a car. She’s dead.”
Stiffness grounds me in place, my throat itching for fluidity. A gust of wind from the overhead fan twirls the hairs of my skin. I want for words. Words want for me. There is no confluence. The lather begins to dry on my body.
Sanity dries from my soul. Remaining slivers of light are snuffed out.
It’s a long, torturous road.
David Agyei-Yeboah is a poet, fiction writer, and musician from Accra, Ghana.
Social media- Instagram: @davidshaddai X: @david_shaddai
black out fiction flash humor poetry satire short story visual
Muse & Fury Lit 