This piece of flash fiction was highly commended in the Flash Fiction section of our 2014 Inaugural Writing Competition.
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Church steps are the hardest to fall down, crushing bone into bone into bone. An elderly midget they’ll make of me, the cement hardness and rock. Then on hands and knees, picking out the beads scattered in the fall from amongst slugs and belly-up wood lice. Church looming ahead, I shuffle sideways, bowing instinctively as others descend the way. Humble, I must seem, I think. Where has this humility come from, I wonder, on my knees with the slugs and the lice. Fleshless entrails and rot-seeking parasites: that it has come to this.