!["Cutting" Flash Fiction [Friday Fictioneers]](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/571ea5f8a3360cf11eb75d3f/1474495612939-G9ZXXQ2S26UWQJGUBYV2/9.21.16+Friday+Fictioneers.jpg)
This flash fiction short story is part of the Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. Stories are to be 100 words more or less, inspired by the photo she posts on Facebook each week.
She pressed the razor—gently at first, then with increasing insistency—into her flesh. As usual, the pain struggled to restrain her, but she leaned into it, cutting more deeply.
Warning bells went off. It was her brain’s way of telling her to stop. But soon, the only thing before her eyes were the points of light she’d been waiting for, like a veil draped over the world, shielding her.
The way Lisa fled from her kiss faded.
She forgot the exam and the disappointed scowl on her teacher’s face.
She simply stroked the blood dripping down her forearm.
Photo Courtesy of Roger Bultot
Check out more stories here.
XOXO,
S.M. Peterson