Archive for April 9, 2009
Fiction: “Prometheus” by James Henschen
“I don’t want to know what it was ‘like’, I want to know what it was.”
When the detective with the crooked jaw and prom king blue eyes says this to me, I want to punch him in the throat. Apparently, he lacks an appreciation for metaphor because what I said was “it was like a symphony of orange and white, dancing, mocking us as we watched our life disappear into little black specks of nothingness.” I know, it was a bit elaborate, but I couldn’t help myself. What it was; was a fire. One that I started, but he doesn’t know that. He doesn’t ask his arrogant questions because he suspects anything. I am flawless and practiced. He asks his questions because he is simple. But I still want to punch him in the throat. Instead I look at him, calm and confused.
