Two Flash Pieces
by Réka Nyitrai
CW: grief
The field well I.
Their weeping grows into a field of flowers. Behind the field their mirrors are already draped. Nearest to me, daffodils sprout from a well. Each one is a little girl. Each one of them becomes a mother. Each one of them tries to warn me - do not fall into the well.
The field well II.
My husband does not see the mourning doves perched on my shoulder. He has not yet discovered that the woman he lives with is not me. She has my smile, my arms, my legs, but her brain is not yet holed. To avoid being exposed, every night I place my image upon her image. At each window of our house a woman waves goodbye to my husband. They all look like me, but actually they are not me. Our house has many doors, all of which, for me are closed. The future, I remember, is already a field well.
Réka NYITRAI lives in Bucharest, Romania. She is a spell, a sparrow, a lioness's tongue — a bird nest in a pool of dusk. Her debut haiku collection “While dreaming your dreams” was published by MONO YA MONO BOOKS, an independent publishing house from Spain, in 2020.