Flash Fiction by Emily Deibler
She found sea monsters to be kinder when her mother and father anchored her to the cliff with chains—her body bowed and strung, a painted figurehead.
Cold panic stole her breath, so she swallowed the wind.
She gasped, and her teeth chattered as if she were Psyche ready for the plunge, ready to fly on Cupid’s wings, crash into the foam. Skin raw, tears misting her eyes, she freed her wrists. Her descent thrashed her existence.
Hands, not tendrils, gripped her then—the ghosts of women’s faces pallored against the abyss. The wind inside her screamed.
She did not drown. Though she could not fly, she could swim.
She found that, though she could not fly, she could breathe.
A native of North Georgia, Emily Deibler is a published poet and author. Her short story “Deer in December” was published in TL;DR Press’ Halloween 2018 Horror collection, NOPE. She has also published her poems “Turkey Hunting,” “Patty,” “Samantha,” and “Daughters of the Sun.” Her debut novel, Dove Keeper, came out in October 2018. She can be found on Twitter at @emilydeibler. She is a regular contributor to Marías at Sampaguitas.