The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Blue Lights Over Broken Bones
by Melissa R. Mendelson

His large shoes stuck outward, nearly tripping the bicyclist that sped down the rocky street.  A pebble chased after him.  A soft thunk in the small, tin can.  His face was always smiling, but he could feel the white drain away.  He tipped his hat, refusing to say a word as those that walked past him avoided his feet.  He reached into his ragged coat for a tissue, but his fingers came out the other side.

Music flowed through an open window across the street.  She came into view, always wearing a pink dress, showing off her legs.  Whether she knew that he sat there didn’t seem to bother her as she danced.  Arms stretched over her head.  Back straight.  The music had her now, and she spun, almost toppling out the door.  But she caught herself, and for a moment, their eyes met.

He hoped the smile on his face was enough for her, but she was spinning again.  He looked up at the blue lights overhead.  The sky was almost beautiful, but it was never warm.  A dog’s bark made its way down the street to his corner.  Another bicyclist flashed past, nearly missing his shoes.  Another soft thunk in the small, tin can, and she danced.  It was always to the same song.

He promised himself that he would never look.  He glanced at the small, tin can in his gloved hand.  His eyes chased after the pebbles that rolled by.  His back pressed into the brick wall behind him.  He was looking, staring at the knobs on the bottom of her legs, where her feet should’ve been, and the knobs were black, hardened with blood.

She stopped dancing, wobbling, trying to spin her away over to the door.  Her hand reached for the handle.  She fell, landing face first on the floor, and he moved to help her.  But he tripped over his own feet.  She giggled in response.  That made him laugh, but her face morphed into tears.  It was this damn place.  You could never laugh for too long, but he got her back up.  And she started to dance again.

“Please, go,” were the words she left in his ear.  He glanced at the small, tin can in his gloved hand.  He placed it by the door, avoiding her stare.  Another bicyclist whizzed by, nearly knocking him over, and the pebbles laughed, sliding under his feet.  He refused to fall, and the blue lights overhead grew more vivid, chasing after him.  His back the shape of the brick wall that he always sat against.  He paused to catch the music flowing through her window, but as he moved forward, pieces of himself shaped like bricks fell to the ground.

Fiction © Copyright Melissa R. Mendelson

Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

About Author Melissa R. Mendelson:

Melissa R. Mendelson is a Horror, Science-Fiction, and Dystopian Author. Her short stories have been published by Sirens Call Publications, Dark Helix Press, and Transmundane Press. She also has a variety of short stories and poetry available on Medium.