Click. Click. Click.


The fingers blurred together. Dancing with the black and white, pressing them down deeper into the dark holes where they belonged. Deep burgundy laced up hands, a reminder of the previous days. Or months. Or years. Time was lost upon the soul who sat, back straight as a pole, arms splayed out in front. From the eyes the tears spilled, splashing out a beat that wove between the clicks. A symphony of sorrow, lost to the ears of the others. Rolling down cheeks a pallid rose, slipping in streams across a neck and disappearing into a muted shirt. Grey eyes, grey hair, grey skin. A grey person with grey fingers tapping on black keys. Achromatic figure of overflowing diction, lacerated by the beams of aspiration, pieces sent scattering beneath dusty couches and closed doors – away from the clicking monotone which filled the room to bursting. It kept coming, till every echo seemed to bounce off the next, a rising cacophony born from only fingers as words formed on a white page on a reflective screen. When the clicking finally stopped, the sound kept going. Continuous in a burning mind, alive with the touch of power from writing, and smoking from the acid darkness that had rolled forth. But it was too late, for the tears had filled up the small room before the water could drain beneath the crack under the door, and so the soul sat. Hands splayed out in front, hair an ebbing pattern lifted by the current expelled by the dying breath. Still all so grey – except for the words. They seemed to tibulate and pulse, capering in freedom as they glowed in brilliant hues, expelled from the lifeless body. And so they froliced to the music, still resounding off soggy walls, and called to the next willing victim.

Click. Click. Click.


10 thoughts on “Click

  1. I absolutely love the word play here, especially as free flowing tears ran down the cheeks, neck and just plain disappeared right into the shirt! I can totally relate with that! Its so vivid! And your choice of titles too always get me all the time! This smarts Kinetic Katy, yes it does! Sheer brill! LOL

    I could just visualize the subject, seated at a desk, and punching away at his/her computer, unburdening self of all the toxins that’s been kept locked up within, whilst sobbing! What I don’t quite get is if the subject didn’t feel a kinda release as he/she let go of those haunting thoughts being documented or if that was a suicide note! Perhaps you’d help me out on this one KK, yes?! *smiles*

    Liked by 2 people

  2. ❤ Thank you once again Yemie for sparing me your kind words! This short story or whatever it is (maybe slightly poemy at times!) came from an image I had in my mind of myself. I was sitting at the computer, staring at the blank screen and suddenly 'darkness' just seemed to pulsate throughout me, and my fingers started moving. Tumbling out of them first came a description of myself, with emotions laid bare as I wrote (hence the tears finally freed from within). It morphed into something more as the end drew near though. For even though the tears had been released, there were too many, pent up for too long, and so they just filled the room. In a way yes, they (I say they for I didn't die typing this piece, as you can see!) didn't feel the release, for when they finally took their last breath, inhaling their own tears, they were still crying. Still more emotions had yet to flow, and so there was no sensation of a lighter soul, for they weren't finished. In short, yes, they did not feel the release from writing down their broiling emotions, and since a room can't literally fill with tears and drown someone, they must have walked away, unable to rid themselves of all the sadness….

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Wow! That’s such a sad story! Perhaps they oughta continue to unburden till there’s none left to rid themselves of, so that much needed release can pull through you know without much ado! Might be an arduous task, but the rewards afterwards are great! No pain, no gain; yeah?! Walking away didn’t solve a thing, rather; it made worse an already bad situation!

      You’re incredible I insist still! Keep them thoughts flowing like water from a faucet! Don’t hold back, pour ’em out, unleash ’em on us! Scream, shout and let ’em all out! The world awaits you Kinetic Katy; don’t despair and don’t keep us waiting too long! *hugs* LOL

      Liked by 1 person

  3. the truest writing comes from a heart that has felt, tasted and held pain and sorrow…
    sorrow can never be depthless…hope is, and we need to reach down deep within us and find it….hope it is that keeps us going… tomorrow will yet be better!

    Liked by 3 people

      1. oh, soon, the darkness will give way to the light. the night can only last for so long before the sun comes blazing in all its majestic splendor, bringing with it hope, warmth and colors!
        wait for it….

        Liked by 1 person

            1. Yes…words can build an entirely new solar system, one that pulsates along with the beat of your heart, and reflects every corner of your mind. Words are a tool of continuous expression, a release of sorts, an escape, a cacophony of wonder that can be just as dark as light. Within words there is the potential for anything.


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