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Dying Embers

Like the dying embers of a cigarette butte, my life was cast into the wake of a tractor trailer. How brightly I burned in the flare-up as I collided with the black asphalt. Like a promise of something more, people would follow me into the darkness. And yet, I thought, if only I could lead myself like I truly were a torch, then maybe things would be different. But eventually, when the breeze turned tempest became too much for me, when I had choked the life out of the lungs of tomorrow, I simply ceased to exist. My ashes scattered as lifeless and useless as though I never were. My only color, other than gray, was the lush red of a cheap lipstick imprint on the filter. Her name was Sadness, but man, could she suck a drag. I could still hear the sound of Hank Williams blasting from crackling speakers as the truck rumbled into the veiled curtain of the next show. It was always the next show because my show was over.

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fiction, short


  • Ushna Sardar
    Ushna Sardarover 6 years ago

    awesome piece of writing, keep it up good work dave.

  • Lehane
    Lehaneover 6 years ago

    Poetic and dark – kept me to the last word.

  • Alyssa Medina
    Alyssa Medinaover 6 years ago

    wow…dave youre magical

  • Damian
    Damianover 6 years ago

    Cool to read Dave.

  • Liz  Wohlrab
    Liz Wohlrabover 6 years ago

    Dave you express the best love your intense work, well done

  • Dave Legere
    Dave Legereover 6 years ago

    thank you everyone. This actually turned into an intro paragraph for a piece I’m hoping to finish today!

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