The JSW Challenge is open to anybody who wishes to participate. Using the writing prompt, write a flash fiction no longer than 200 words and post to your page. The Challenge starts on Monday and runs through Sunday each week. Please remember to link your story back to this post so everyone can read your entry.
“That’s what they all say.”
He didn’t look over, wasn’t anything more over there to see than in front of himself. Mud, mud and more mud. He lived in a suit of mud.
“So who is the enemy now?”
Daniel looked up, across the calm office to the man sitting behind the desk. He thought they were supposed to come out from behind the desk to seem more open, more approachable, more friendly, but what did he know? He looked at his hands as if the answers lay somewhere in the creases in his palms, but all he could see was the mud.
“What do you see?”
“Mud.” He gave the same answer everytime. Nobody believed him about the mud, how they’d lived in it and breathed in it and died in it as the battle wove all around them. Different mud different times. Same story.
His socks had rotted away and now they were mud. His pants, his coat, his rifle…. all mud. The trench sank deeper and deeper into the mud. They wallowed to their groins in mud.
“What is beyond the mud?”
Daniel looked at him for a moment, head cocked, jerking once. “Mud.”
It was all mud. Mud. Mud. Mud. Mud. Squishy. Crawley. Madding mud.
“It would help if you could wipe the mud away and see what is beyond.”
“There is no wiping away the mud,” he said with a shake of his head to dismiss the distant toll of bells. “The world is mud.”
The therapist sat in silence for a moment, looking at him. Daniel looked back, eyes tracing the mud along the man’s trousers and cuff, coating his desk and living on the wall beyond like a shroud.
The therapist tapped a finger on his notebook, glanced at his watch. His muddy watch. “We’ll take this up again next time.”
Careful not to slip on the mud, Daniel rose, flicking away mud oozing down his sleeves, onto the chair and the floor and the world. He squished out without speaking because if he opened his mouth, the mud would fill him, too. The enemy crawling inside.
The therapist went home and had a nice dinner with his wife and friends.