her bears impossible. Yet eventually I found it and I got to see the fluff again.
But dad caught me and hit me calling me a sick freak and a monster for doing that to one of my sisters toys. He said I was just as crazy as my psycho mother.
That’s when I figured out I couldn’t get my fluff from the house anymore. I had to get creative, so I would go out and scour the neighborhood for what I could find. Dad, beside that one time he caught me, couldn’t care less about me. It wasn’t easy but I’d find things: sometimes in the trash, sometimes in the forest. I would find them and cut them open and just marvel at how the fluff spilled out. I learned there were different kinds of fluff. Some was super light, and would get caught in the air and just fly away. Then again there was fluff that was heavy, that would drop down to the ground with a wet flop. But the most important thing was that I didn’t get caught and hit again.
One day I saw dad sitting by an empty crib. Apparently he took Isabel to the hospital and didn’t come back with her, like the time he didn’t come back with mom. He hung his head downward, perpetually rocking it back and forth like a pendulum counting down.
I didn’t care.
The only thing I cared about was finding more and more fluff.
But one day God spoke to me. He proposed to me a question that would completely change my life.
Does everything have fluff?
Yes God! Everything is filled with fluff, and that’s part of what makes it so amazing!
Does everything have fluff?
Yes God! But I already gave you the answer didn’t I?
Does everything have fluff?
I didn’t know how to answer that time, but then it struck me. Everything was filled with fluff! Which means so was Dad! Dad was filled with fluff too!
After the hospital Dad would just stay in bed when he wasn’t depressingly looming over the crib like it’s shadow. So I made my way up to his room. He was sleeping, or at least I think he was sleeping. The room reeked of the strong and overwhelming smell of alcohol and there was an empty white bottle in his hand.
I think he was sleeping.
He didn’t move when I opened him up.
It was like that time with the bear and me again, so uncertain of what to do with the knife. I poked him a bit and he didn’t move. He just kept sleeping there as still as the bear. His skin was much tougher than the others, so I had to lean my weight to get a bit of fluff to leak out. There was something special about those few small specks. It wasn’t like the others; it glistened in the way I imagined gems would. With the knife I stabbed into his belly determined to see more. It was like plunging into a heavy water balloon that didn’t pop. I lifted the knife forward, cutting upwards as more and more fluff spilled out.
The fluff was beautiful.
Dad’s fluff was the most beautiful I had ever seen!
It sparkled and shined like nothing ever seen before. I would take handfuls of it and toss it up in the air, where upon it separated and would flop down on top of me. It was so warm against my skin. This must be the touch of God! Dad’s fluff was so beautiful! I just kept playing and playing and playing until there was no fluff left in him.
But something was wrong.
Something was very wrong.
Dad’s fluff wouldn’t come off.
I tried rubbing it against the sheets, against the towels, against the carpet, but the fluff wouldn’t come off my hands. I panicked because this never happened before. I put my hands through the hottest water I could stand and rubbed.
I rubbed.
And I rubbed.
And I rubbed.
And I rubbed.
And I rubbed.
And I rubbed.
And I rubbed until I saw it.
I had fluff too!
I had the same beautiful fluff that Dad had!
This was what God was really trying to tell me!
That’s why the fluff wouldn’t come off, because God was trying to show me that I had fluff too. How could I have been so stupid this entire time!
With mom’s knife in my hand, the first knife I ever used, I plunged it into my stomach like I did with Dad and the bear. It hurt. It hurt so much and that was how I know it was working. It was the same pain Dad would give me; that God would give me. It was the pain that let me know this was the right thing to do!
I watched as the fluff poured out of me. It was amazing! I don’t even know how to describe it. It would be like trying to describe the beauty of song to the deaf. Oh how beautiful it was. How it shined and the floor and twinkled against the light. God was truly wonderful to gift something this beautiful inside me. Oh how beautiful the fluff was. My only regret was that I couldn’t see Mom’s fluff, I bet it would have been beautiful just like mine. I wondered if she would have also loved to see Dad’s fluff. Oh how I love fluff! It was the one thing in my life that made sense.
Joshua Flowers lives in Maine and after his first publication has become a much more serious and stoic man. He primarily deals with the art of horror and is currently working on multiple projects including NaNoWriMo and several short stories. Keep an eye out for the name Joshua Flowers
But dad caught me and hit me calling me a sick freak and a monster for doing that to one of my sisters toys. He said I was just as crazy as my psycho mother.
That’s when I figured out I couldn’t get my fluff from the house anymore. I had to get creative, so I would go out and scour the neighborhood for what I could find. Dad, beside that one time he caught me, couldn’t care less about me. It wasn’t easy but I’d find things: sometimes in the trash, sometimes in the forest. I would find them and cut them open and just marvel at how the fluff spilled out. I learned there were different kinds of fluff. Some was super light, and would get caught in the air and just fly away. Then again there was fluff that was heavy, that would drop down to the ground with a wet flop. But the most important thing was that I didn’t get caught and hit again.
One day I saw dad sitting by an empty crib. Apparently he took Isabel to the hospital and didn’t come back with her, like the time he didn’t come back with mom. He hung his head downward, perpetually rocking it back and forth like a pendulum counting down.
I didn’t care.
The only thing I cared about was finding more and more fluff.
But one day God spoke to me. He proposed to me a question that would completely change my life.
Does everything have fluff?
Yes God! Everything is filled with fluff, and that’s part of what makes it so amazing!
Does everything have fluff?
Yes God! But I already gave you the answer didn’t I?
Does everything have fluff?
I didn’t know how to answer that time, but then it struck me. Everything was filled with fluff! Which means so was Dad! Dad was filled with fluff too!
After the hospital Dad would just stay in bed when he wasn’t depressingly looming over the crib like it’s shadow. So I made my way up to his room. He was sleeping, or at least I think he was sleeping. The room reeked of the strong and overwhelming smell of alcohol and there was an empty white bottle in his hand.
I think he was sleeping.
He didn’t move when I opened him up.
It was like that time with the bear and me again, so uncertain of what to do with the knife. I poked him a bit and he didn’t move. He just kept sleeping there as still as the bear. His skin was much tougher than the others, so I had to lean my weight to get a bit of fluff to leak out. There was something special about those few small specks. It wasn’t like the others; it glistened in the way I imagined gems would. With the knife I stabbed into his belly determined to see more. It was like plunging into a heavy water balloon that didn’t pop. I lifted the knife forward, cutting upwards as more and more fluff spilled out.
The fluff was beautiful.
Dad’s fluff was the most beautiful I had ever seen!
It sparkled and shined like nothing ever seen before. I would take handfuls of it and toss it up in the air, where upon it separated and would flop down on top of me. It was so warm against my skin. This must be the touch of God! Dad’s fluff was so beautiful! I just kept playing and playing and playing until there was no fluff left in him.
But something was wrong.
Something was very wrong.
Dad’s fluff wouldn’t come off.
I tried rubbing it against the sheets, against the towels, against the carpet, but the fluff wouldn’t come off my hands. I panicked because this never happened before. I put my hands through the hottest water I could stand and rubbed.
I rubbed.
And I rubbed.
And I rubbed.
And I rubbed.
And I rubbed.
And I rubbed.
And I rubbed until I saw it.
I had fluff too!
I had the same beautiful fluff that Dad had!
This was what God was really trying to tell me!
That’s why the fluff wouldn’t come off, because God was trying to show me that I had fluff too. How could I have been so stupid this entire time!
With mom’s knife in my hand, the first knife I ever used, I plunged it into my stomach like I did with Dad and the bear. It hurt. It hurt so much and that was how I know it was working. It was the same pain Dad would give me; that God would give me. It was the pain that let me know this was the right thing to do!
I watched as the fluff poured out of me. It was amazing! I don’t even know how to describe it. It would be like trying to describe the beauty of song to the deaf. Oh how beautiful it was. How it shined and the floor and twinkled against the light. God was truly wonderful to gift something this beautiful inside me. Oh how beautiful the fluff was. My only regret was that I couldn’t see Mom’s fluff, I bet it would have been beautiful just like mine. I wondered if she would have also loved to see Dad’s fluff. Oh how I love fluff! It was the one thing in my life that made sense.
Joshua Flowers lives in Maine and after his first publication has become a much more serious and stoic man. He primarily deals with the art of horror and is currently working on multiple projects including NaNoWriMo and several short stories. Keep an eye out for the name Joshua Flowers
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