Author's note: I wrote this ficlet after seeing The Harvest, because every time Liz had to lie she looked like she was going to throw up or faint from the horror of it. Never posted it to a list, just kept it in my notebook. So here it is.
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The words get caught in my throat.
I am a liar.
I am lying.
I feel out of breath all the time now. My body rejects these words, it hates me for saying them.
Then again, doesn't everyone?
It's a simple equation to discover such dishonesty in a flowing black pool. Corrupted purity is fouler than filth, perversion is a crueler ending. Simple beginnings in dirtier climates, ash raining down neverceasing. This is my sacrifice, to choke on soot and gasp for air when the lies clog my lungs. There used to be silver and brown but my eyes are awash in black pity for a world I still dream about. Gagging on honesty too, forbidden to hold truth in my grimy hands. Silent and dry and marred. No words, no life.
A shadow. Jagged edged shadow of myself, similar in shape but obviously wrong. But the real Liz escaped like Peter Pan, running off into the love and sunlight of another reality, leaving only me behind. A choking shadow, lying on the ground, flimsy and untrue.