Detritus by Zoe Karakikla-Mitsakou

The house is dusty. Piles of small deaths lurking in the corners; sneering at cells that have trickled from my body and are forcibly suspended in rhythmic spasms before they land on the fragments of our lives. There are no arachnophobes among the blind. The visual representation of a spider triggers a primal part of our brains into action, an evolutionary reaction to a primordial threat; in the absence of the visual stimulus, fear is also absent.

My father’s bones were exhumed, thrown in a bone crusher and buried as dust and flakes in a mass grave with no names. I walk over the tomb in silence as my eyes flicker in horror between the priest who, after drowsily saying a prayer I know my communist father would have hated, holds his hand out in expectation of a monetary reward; and a small fleck of grime caught in the breeze, dancing its way to oblivion: is this a crumb of someone from that grave or me?

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6 Comments

Filed under Zoe Karakikla-Mitsakou

6 responses to “Detritus by Zoe Karakikla-Mitsakou

  1. Very macabre and strangely self reflective.

  2. John Riley

    “There are no arachnophobes among the blind.” A great line. Good stuff.

  3. Gorgeous piece, lush with darkness. One of my favorite words, detritus — dismal, longing, hopeless, final. Peace…

  4. Zoe

    John: Thank you! I’m so glad you liked the line!

    Linda: Thank you! I wasn’t going for dark, but seem to have ended up there…! Detritus is such a wonderful word, you’re right. Lovely to read and hearing it brings a sense of weightlessness and peace to mind…

  5. Pingback: Week #51 – Unintended Consequences | 52|250 A Year of Flash

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