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    GatheringFiki SpringFRE2019 Prompt 55: A murder of crows. It’s Mitchell, but not as we know him.

    ________

    “Bragi.” The name sounds new off Mitchell’s tongue; the way he emphasises the vowels, making him softer, less dramatic. “What’s he like?”

    Anders counts all the years spent craving silence. It’s almost funny to think back on how at first he thought it was the best thing to ever happen to him, the way just a few well-placed words could open metaphorical doors and literal legs. Anders wanted, Anders got, and Anders paid the price.

    He can’t remember how long after he turned twenty-one that drinking sunny evenings away turned into drinking afternoons into oblivion; how long it was before late nights became later nights that morphed into long, white-washed mornings spent dry-heaving into empty bath tubs, crash after spectacular crash; and all so that the loudest thing wouldn’t be the voice in his head but the clashing of pills in his bloodstream.

    “Undeniable,” Anders says.
     
    “Now that I can understand.”

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