Winner of Thunderdome Flash Fiction Contest 2018: Day 3. View the video prompt here.
There is a portal to another world and it’s one of introspection.
Kalay kalay kala, quokkas say.
It means – well.
It’s hard to say.
Perhaps kalay meaning to say and kala meaning-
Here. The human in red shorts. Is she…? Or real, even? Because humans have these strict rules, which, quokka-ka, make no sense. To you. Make no sense to you. The codification of herself. You watch the codification of her self. Her phone is: large, white, rectangular and bright. She has the back of her body to the ocean and the front of her body to the forest. The back of her phone to the forest, the front of her phone to her body.
Phone, in Quokkas, is si, and a short chittering noise.
She has red jean shorts, and a pink cotton shirt, and she smiles. Why do you wait for her to leave, before…?
You stand in her footprints.
Her prints are much larger than yours.
It’s hard to say if her prints were truly there, of course. The tide comes in, the tide goes out, and feet go with it. Some things remain to be seen. But some don’t.
Your phone is: small, and black, and triangular. You stand with your furback to the ocean. Your phoneback to the forest.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
You don’t have red pants, is the problem. Or a pink shirt. Is you? Is you…you?
Take the picture, embodies the command.
Take it, and be real.
Your back is to the ocean. The blue waving reflection only existing on the phone. The phone’s back is to the forest. There are leaves it can’t see.
The camera makes a chitter sound when you take the picture.
Si chitter. The ocean just says…
And it’s a hard thing to hear.