Orange Salvation

by JMBauhaus
originally published at 06:07PM on Wednesday, April 09, 2008

She missed oranges most of all. That sweet burst of liquid sunshine exploding in her mouth and dripping down her chin, licking her fingers, sticky from peeling the rind… she could maybe deal better with the absence of actual sunlight if she could only keep oranges around. Oranges, she knew, were the key to her sanity. Everything else - the colorless cold constancy she faced - could be endured. Just one orange. The color, the fruit, the scent, a shot of Cointreau. A glimpse of sunrise. Her mother’s fiery hair.

Fire. That was orange. She cried, knowing that she would never see it; but then she smiled, knowing it would be the last thing those sons of bitches outside ever saw, as she released the grenade.




  • from flute faerie:

    Whoa, totally wasn’t expecting that last part. I like how the story went from an orange, to hair, to a grenade. That was cool.

  • from kells:

    Wow, that last paragraph really was a twist! I had begun to imagine something along the lines that she had been kidnapped/imprisoned…what a surprise!

    The imagery is wonderful, though – gorgeous descriptions, and the metaphors and all that are fantastic.

    I’d love to read some sort of backstory on this =)

  • from JMBauhaus:


    Dang, how do you do dashes without it turning into strikethru?

    Kells: you could write one….

  • from THX 0477:

    I liked the quick shift from thoughtful to throwing a grenade with a little stream-of-consciousness transition in the middle.