Mister Bump UK

Vanity Project

Graphic showing the logo for the Flashback Track Friday prompt.

This is my response to this week’s Flashback Track Friday prompt, where we were asked to take the song Here Comes the Sun, and to use some of its lyrics to come up with something of our own. I just picked on the short phrase “here it comes”.

I penned a short, 1-minute flash. In it I mention a health issue. Rest assured that this is absolute fiction. In real life, my health is no worse than it was a year ago (though my doctor might disagree 🤣).

Oh, and I have been AWOL for a few days. I’m posting this in real-time, so think of this as my return. I’m just chilling at home, still not really planning on doing much WPing for the next couple of days, but will start easing myself back in maybe tomorrow. I thought I should write this one, particularly, because it was my prompt. Scheduled a few weeks ago.

I flinched as the dazzling flash came first. Unmissable. Even asleep, it penetrated my eyelids. For a split second, it filled the sky. Night became day. For a split second. And just as quickly, its glare subsided.

I was jerked toward semi-consciousness, my disengaged brain still with nothing to process. But even with aeons at its disposal, it wouldn’t have understood this. The unimaginable. What could any right-thinking person hope to gain by this? A nuclear strike, just twenty miles away? To leave what? A wasteland? No use to anyone? Awarded such tainted spoils, the madman’s fate would be worse than my own.

You see, last Tuesday I discovered I had a brain tumour. I watched a friend once, same thing. Ish. It wasn’t pleasant, how she went. If I’d had time to process this, I might have concluded that my fate was a blessing.

As the bedroom window exploded, I felt it, moments later. A wind. Like no other. Here it comes.

21 comments

    • On the contrary, ideal. Gone in a millisecond. Bertter than lingering twenty years.

      Yes in reality there’d not really be time for the narrator to observe anything. Even all those pseudo-thoughts wouldn’t happen. That’s why I didn’t have the glasss striking him, because presumably the wind would get to him first. It’s funny, though, somebody writing about their own death. I don’t think I ever did it convincingly, I’ve never seen other people do it convincingly, but that’s the attraction of keeping trying new ways. One day it’ll click 🤣

      Like

      Reply

    • I don’t think you “react”, particularly. I think you maybe value more the time you have left, because it becomes clear that it is finite.

      But really, that is the same for everyone. The only thing is, the risk is higher for you than for everybody else. How much higher depends on the exact problem.

      This isn’t hypothesis. This is actually what I thought about after my stroke. That “risk” thing is how you get yourself out of the mindset “oh, god, I’m gonna die”.

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

      • It’s a fascinating topic to write about. I think everyone reacts differently to things. My sister was very strong emotionally when she was diagnosed w breast cancer three years ago. She remained very positive and upbeat maybe self preservation or being negative would have been toxic to her body and mind

        Liked by 1 person

        Reply

        • A friend if mnine has just been treated for ovarian cancer. It’s funny bec ause she feels a fraud. She’s supposed to be some kind of hero, yet all she did, a taxi took her both ways, she underwent chemo or radio, not sure which, but she basically got there, sat there during the treatment, then went home. The last thing she sees herself as is a hero.

          Liked by 1 person

          Reply

          • Hero is a strong word to use. I admire my sister a lot and your friend for holding it together. I hope she doesn’t feel like a fraud just to go through these treatments is tremendous and brave. Bless her

            Liked by 1 person

            Reply

            • But we do, though, don’t we. We put our heads down and get on with it.

              I have no idea how we managed to get through all the grief with my daughter. I couldn’t do it now.

              Like

              Reply

    • Thanks. Lots of my ideas tend to be a bit off the planet, and I dread to think what they’re like technically, just in terms of the nuts and bolts of the words. But it’s nice to have a platform where I can explore all this.

      Like

      Reply

Leave a reply to Nope, Not Pam Cancel reply