When Cassandra exited the bathroom stall, she stood for a solid minute puzzled at the absence of mirrors. Someone had come into the high school bathroom, the unit located in the Andre Hall, and removed each and every mirror from its place. Silver fasteners remained, framing unpainted yellow squares above the dirty sinks. In place of each mirror read the message: YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL.
Well, that’s awfully nice, Cassandra thought. She did not feel very beautiful: she had woken late, tied her hair in a bun, and forgotten to put on make-up. Though she appreciated the message, she regretted that she could not fix her eye shadow which always gooped in the early afternoon. An impulse overtook her to remove her compact from her purse, just to check, but she did not. I am beautiful, she thought, of course I am. Imbued with confidence, she strode out of the bathroom, her head held high.
Screams erupted from each of the passerby’s who saw her. Unfortunately, she had not noticed the massive spider crawling across her face and biting her cheek with poisonous results.
Posted on September 3, 2013, in Fiction, Writing and tagged absurd, bathroom, Derek Berry, fiction, flash fiction, humor, project beautiful, short story, word salad, writing. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.