{"id":2611,"date":"2012-04-30T11:00:04","date_gmt":"2012-04-30T16:00:04","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/?p=2611"},"modified":"2012-04-30T11:00:04","modified_gmt":"2012-04-30T16:00:04","slug":"radio-days-flash-fiction","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/?p=2611","title":{"rendered":"Radio Days (Flash Fiction)"},"content":{"rendered":"

I think I got everyone.<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/em>\u201cI know you do.\u00a0 You\u2019ve already told me.\u00a0 Maybe a thousand times just today.\u201d<\/p>\n

I think I got everyone.<\/em><\/p>\n

The voice from the radio repeated its singular message as the old man set his soup bowl on the end table and began the long, slow process of rising from his chair.\u00a0 His legs shook as they bore the weight of his frail frame.\u00a0 It seemed to take more time each day to reach the stooped position that now passed for standing, but he honestly had no idea.\u00a0 There was no one to provide him reference.\u00a0 He had been alone now for more years than he could remember.<\/p>\n

I think I got everyone.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u00a0 You took them all. \u00a0Just like you said you would.\u201d\u00a0 The old man shook his head.\u00a0 \u201cYou\u2019d think after all these years your kind would have come up with something else to say.\u00a0 Feel free to mix it up a little.\u00a0 I promise I won\u2019t tell anyone.\u201d<\/p>\n

The old man laughed.\u00a0 It was a wheezy, raspy sound that devolved into a phlegmy, racking cough, exchanging gallows humor for pain and swapping a moment of levity for a briefly paralyzing fear that had been creeping up on him in recent months.<\/p>\n

Staring at the living room wall brought no answers.\u00a0 It never did.\u00a0 There was no comfort to be found in the faded blue wallpaper.\u00a0 He was dying, and nothing would stop it.\u00a0 It had just taken so damned long to get here.\u00a0 He wished he could find relief in that final, inevitable release, but too much time had passed.\u00a0 He\u2019d outlived his faith, and now he dreaded the oblivion that awaited him.<\/p>\n

I think I got everyone.<\/em><\/p>\n

Those words, always present, ever invasive, got his feet moving again.\u00a0 He shuffle-stepped his way into the kitchen for his afternoon medication.\u00a0 Yellow one for the heart; pink one for the cholesterol.\u00a0 Just as it had been before the invasion.\u00a0 His meds arrived every month in the mail, though nothing else ever did.\u00a0 And despite the fact that postal workers had long since become extinct.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re a cruel people,\u201d he said.\u00a0 \u201cOr whatever you are.\u201d\u00a0 He popped the pills into his mouth and washed them down with a swallow of water.\u00a0 Just like the mail, the tap, electricity, gas, everything he needed to stay alive in his little hut of isolation, all still worked.\u00a0 Even the food was delivered, though he didn\u2019t know why or how. \u00a0He wondered if they watched him.\u00a0 He was pretty sure they did.<\/p>\n

The old man ran his hand over the backs of picture frames that lay face down on the kitchen counter.\u00a0 In the end, it had been easier to stop looking at them.\u00a0 The people in them weren\u2019t coming back, and he preferred to let their faces fade in his memory rather than have a clear picture of what he\u2019d lost.<\/p>\n

That hadn\u2019t always been the case.\u00a0 There were piles of frames on the dining room table and even more in the bedroom down the hall, but these days he never ventured farther than the bathroom, and he couldn\u2019t remember the last time he\u2019d slept in his own bed.\u00a0 His chair served him just fine, and as he made his way back there, he promised himself he\u2019d rinse the soup bowl later that evening.\u00a0 Maybe tidy up a bit.\u00a0 But at the moment, a nap sounded like a fine idea.\u00a0 Sleep was a constant companion these days.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you watch me?\u201d He\u2019d never asked them before and wasn\u2019t sure why he did just then.<\/p>\n

I think I got everyone.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cAre you sure?\u00a0 I seem to be kicking along just fine.\u00a0 Aren\u2019t I part of the \u2018everyone\u2019?\u00a0 Maybe there are others.\u00a0 Maybe they bring me my food and my medication.\u00a0 Maybe where there is one weed there are three or four or even twenty more.\u201d<\/p>\n

The old man slowly lowered himself to his chair, letting himself fall the last sixteen inches or so and landing with a small, whimpered grunt.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe there are others,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

I think I got every<\/em>One.<\/em><\/p>\n

If the old man noticed the subtle change in message, he gave no sign.\u00a0 He pulled an afghan from the back of the chair and wrapped it around his legs and then pulled the remainder up over his arms.\u00a0 He closed his eyes and rested his temple against the padded cushion of the chair\u2019s headrest.\u00a0 \u201cIt would be nice if there were others,\u201d he said.\u00a0 His voice was soft; his words slurred.<\/p>\n

I think I got every<\/em>One.<\/em><\/p>\n

The old man\u2019s mouth hung open as his breathing slowed.\u00a0 His body fought the processes that were telling it to wind down, but whatever energy it had left had long since been used up.<\/p>\n

I think I got <\/em>Everyone.\u00a0 <\/em>The radio\u2019s voice was a whisper, both excited and reverent.\u00a0 <\/em><\/p>\n

The old man\u2019s exhales became more rattle than respiration and eventually stopped altogether.<\/p>\n

I think I got everyone.<\/em><\/p>\n

His expression went slack as his body relaxed, and his facial features sagged against the bones of his skull.\u00a0 An expectant silence filled the room, broken only by the ticking of the house as it settled on its foundation.\u00a0 Minutes stretched into hours; night became day.\u00a0 The old man was gone.<\/p>\n

This is better than anything.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I think I got everyone. \u201cI know you do.\u00a0 You\u2019ve already told me.\u00a0 Maybe a thousand times just today.\u201d I think I got everyone. The voice from the radio repeated its singular message as the old man set his soup bowl on the end table and began the long, slow process of rising from his […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":10,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[414,422],"class_list":["post-2611","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","tag-first-and-last","tag-flash-fiction"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2611","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/10"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2611"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2611\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2611"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2611"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2611"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}