You discover a letter on a path that affects you deeply. Today, write about this encounter. And your twist? Be as succinct as possible.
This is the challenge set for last Friday, I find in myself that I am learning that I struggle to write fiction which this is effectively under pressure and quickly. For me for a story to develop in any fashion I need time to cogitate it, so though I shall try to keep this short, I am still putting it forwards late 🙂
She sat on the bench, head lowered as fingertips clutched the sides of a now throbbing skull. There was a tightness in her chest, an angry and scared pulsating throughout her body and a heat that felt like it might overwhelm.
Scrunched up eyes held back tears as her mind asked “this parenting lark is hard, I thought it would get easier, it isn’t, why is she doing this, I feel helpless, I don’t know what to do, someone please give me a manual, tell me what I am doing wrong”.
The final words in her mind came out as a sob, splashes of tears ran down to hit her knees, blurry eyes opening to see a piece of paper between her feet, the breeze around the park bench seemed to will her to retrieve it.
Dry lips became bitten as the soggy mass was opened, bits disintegrating between her fingers but a few ink sodden words were viewable it read “why can’t they see me, why can’t they hear me, if only, I would still be here”.
She gasped, head snatching back, heart galloping ready to spring from her chest “ohh Rachel why, ohh, if only someone had found this earlier” she cried standing swiftly making pace to return home.
Head reeled remembering the pretty red head, friends with her daughter who had lived down the road. The young girl who had recently taken her life. Her mind had snatches of visions, the changes in the friendship between her and her daughter, the distance that suddenly seemed to appear, the change in look, the grey circles, the silence.
Pushing the key in to the familiar lock she thought about her own daughter, the distance now between them, long before her friends demise, the same black circles, the same anger, the same silence, the same change in appearance, once glorious red hair now black as a raven.
The door seemed to fly open with a telling creak, red rimmed eyes seeing now what seemed a shadow of her daughter “mum” came a surprised tone from Lucy, eyes normally downcast for a moment searching hers, scouring the burst veins from crying.
“Come here please” came unsure maternal voice. Footsteps resisted a moment before moving forwards, one foots distance daughter and mother now, yet closer than they had been in such a long time.
Her hand went forwards placing the dishevelled letter in to her daughters palm, the sleeve rising a touch to reveal raw red cuts.
The wet mass was opened and read as once happy eyes then rose, now looking like a ghost had walked by. “I want to see you Lucy, I want to hear you, please” came scared reverberations up her throat.
“Really mum?” came reply. “Yes my love, really, please.”
Lucy turned to the computer, flicking the screens, “see this?” came daughters reply turning towards her mum.
With curiosity she moved in close behind her daughter, the facebook screen up large and bold, a picture of Lucy, shirt open, bra revealed with a pigs head superimposed on her face, the words “ugly ginger pig, slut should die like her friend”
“Ohhhh Lucy, I hear you, we will beat this, you are not alone” touching her shoulder gingerly the young girl turned, for the first time in months finally allowing a motherly embrace.
© Justine @ Eclecticoddnsods.com
Having a son with tics/Tourettes I know the impact of bullying it is something close to my heart and world.
I would really love to know what you think of this piece of writing xx Justine x