The Road Home – Flash Fiction

All signs of sobriety had evaporated by the time my third double arrived. The rye was going down smoothly, converging with the blood stream, doing its job. Eventually reaching my limit, gravity yanked me down off the barstool. I stumbled out of the bar and commenced staggering home. A difficult task without the aid of daylight and a sober mind, and those aids were nowhere to be found. Daylight was gone, and twilight was on the verge of surrendering to a pitch black sky. Taking a detour, I went out to the hazel wood, because a fire was in my head. Not just a drunken headache, but the fire of another squandered day, burnt to the ground, reduced to cinders. No solace was offered. I awoke the next morning, still among the hazel wood, head still afire, and reluctantly completed my journey home.

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Linked to dVerse Poets Pub — Prosery: The Song of Wandering Aengus

The assigned line is from ‘The Song of Wandering Aengus’ by Yeats.  
‘I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head’.

Prosery Rules:

  1. Use an assigned line in the body of your prose. You may change the punctuation and capitalization, but you are not allowed to insert any words within the line itself. You can add words at the beginning and/or at the end of the line; but the line itself must remain intact.
  2. Your prose can be either flash fiction, nonfiction, or creative nonfiction. YOU CAN NOT WRITE A POEM for this prompt. AND, your prose should be no longer than 144 words, sans title. It does not have to be exactly 144 words. But it can be no longer than 144 words.

15 thoughts on “The Road Home”

  1. Sadly, this is the case for far too many alcoholics….the blackouts….the wandering and waking up where they know not. It takes hitting bottom to decide to help oneself. And every one has a different bottom/pit/chasm that makes them take stock.

  2. I’ve known alcoholics like your character, Ron, who’ve got lost on their way home in the dark, and I’ve heard of some who did it in the middle of winter and never made it back. You’ve captured the drunken movements – the yank of gravity, stumbling and staggering – and the description of the ‘fire of another squandered day, burnt to the ground, reduced to cinders.’ He wasn’t completely incapable after all.

  3. Lovely image of twilight surrendering mirroring he way your character surrenders himself to alcoholism and a night amongst the hazel wood. Great flow to your prose. I much enjoyed it.

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