Creative Nonfiction Flash by Max Rauhman
By Max Rauhman
Sidestep. Shuffle. Hop, hop. “Don’t step on a crack or you'll break your
momma’s back!” I said as I let my left foot graze a crack just a little and
glanced over to check. Nothing happened. A bright green lizard darted across
the sidewalk, and I let go of mom’s hand to chase after it. When I caught up to
it, I stomped on it. Its pulverized body flattened beneath my shoe, and its
blood spilled out from every angle. “Maxy! Why?!” mom pleaded, as I stood
proudly over my kill. Her tone was desperate. Her face, shocked with grief. I
didn’t understand why she was so upset. The other boys hunted and squished
lizards. They cheered in triumph as they stomped. They admired the broken
bodies. Smashed faces. Blood and guts.
There were tears in her eyes as she snatched my hand and pulled me back to her.
“How would you like it?!” She was still yelling but she tried to contain
herself. “How would you like it if you were just minding your business -
playing with your friends from school, and a big scary giant just stomped on
you for no reason?” I could see it as she spoke. I was on the playground at
school and a giant ran over to us. He laughed as he stomped on my best friend,
Danielle. She screamed as her body exploded, and all that was left was a
puddle. “Why?!” I cried out. Maybe to the giant. Maybe to God. I’d never
imagined a world where Danielle and I couldn’t play together, and suddenly I
knew I’d never see her again. It was the greatest loss I had ever felt.
The giant lifted his foot again. As a shadow fell over me I realized that I,
too, would die. I begged him not to. I was so scared. The foot slammed down and
everything disappeared. I cried and mom cried too. I told her I was sorry. I
asked if we could fix it. “We can’t fix it, sweet Maxy. We can’t. That little
lizard is dead and gone, forever.” I felt like I was sinking and my thoughts
ran away from me. Dead and gone forever. Forever. Because of me. Mom cradled my
head and pulled me into a tight embrace.
I lost myself in my tears and mom cooed and consoled me. “It’s ok, little one.
It’s ok. Just learn from this.” I nodded as she wiped the tears from my cheeks.
“I promise,” I said. “I’ll never do it again.” I trembled with regret as we
walked away. Away from the dead little lizard, the one that just wanted to play
with his little lizard friends. Every few steps, a little lizard ran across the
sidewalk. They ran along bushes and fences. They ran through the grass. Bright
and springy, they were different sizes and had different faces. Each little one
was unique and beautiful. Each little one was alive.
- Max Rauhman is a sober, gluten free vegetarian who lives in one of the food
and booze capitals of America: New Orleans. He’s a tree planting, bicycle
commuting environmentalist who hopes that we get to keep hangin’ out down here
for a while. He and his wife can be found walking their small pack of shepskies
by the river. Max can be contacted at Max.Rauhman@gmail.com