War Comes to America

Flash Fiction

Her hips were abnegated of nodules of death. The is an ageless scent of death: it was the struggle of mercy and the swarming people of monstrous chariots. The fabrication was delicate and divisive of the news-paper writing clashes. A tribute to their panache making a collision between both alluring and the Second Disappearance of Youth as she stood, naked and unafraid on the marbled gilt stage. A boy ran out to give her a tiara because protocol must be overserved. She kissed him in that way where sexlessness is very alluring.

She gleamed at the spotlights, taking her bows with aplomb.