Yet another week has passed, and it’s time to share another six-sentence story. However, this week’s prompt word made me derail into a psychologically dark theme. So, a small disclaimer before I let you read: if you are someone who may be triggered by domestic abuse and CPTSD, it might be best to skip this week. For others, dread... tread on—with one eye closed.
Musically, nothing much has changed. I did listen to a lot of Type O Negative this week, which is one of those bands I used to listen to in my teens—Life Is Killing Me specifically is the album I was stuck on.
The weekly writing challenge is hosted by GirlieOnTheEdge, and you can find links to other participants’ work through the link-up. Please do check out the others too, there are a lot of great writers on this hop.
Rules of the hop:
Write 6 sentences. No more. No less.
Use the current week’s prompt word.
The link is live from Wednesday at 6:00 PM until late Saturday night.
Spread the word and support fellow writers!
PROMPT WORD: HELP
Six-Sentence Story - Shoelaces
“Daddy, please, no,” our five-year-old heroine chokes on her tears as the man she looks up to most grabs the keys from the mantelpiece.
She runs to the window, barely reaching, rising onto her tiptoes on the bed, her chin resting on the frame—and as she gazes out, the most beautiful woman she has ever known lies there, motionless.
That night, she begged all the gods she could name for silence while sliding into the comforting dark of the slit between the bed frame and the wall, the revs of a six-cylinder BMW M20 engine sending tremors through the air.
In her early teens, our heroine found solace in the arms of a stranger, a man who could have been her father by age, offering kisses for a pack of cigarettes and booze.
“Mommy, help,” the voice of a five-year-old cuts through the air as a spitting image of the girl in our first sentence struggles with her shoelaces.
This voice has become the only one that drowns out the hum of the car when our heroine spaces out, and with those tiny hands and innocent eyes, she did receive a gift from the gods, if I may say.
There's more of my work:
If you like short stories I have them scooped up into one category (including the six-sentence stories).
The Nervous Poet at the SSC&B can be followed here.
There is also poetry.
More personal entries can be found at the Blog.
There's also the IT studies blog in Estonian and "Chaos in Spring" on YouTube, Spotify and other streaming services.
This is a a heavy, beautiful, and deeply human look at the ghosts we carry. The title itself is a perfect metaphor, representing both a mundane childhood struggle and the literal ‘ties’ that bind a daughter to her mother’s past ?
Thank you for the comment Ange, am glad you found it beautiful and human while the subject was so heavy.
Parents need to protect their children.
Thank you for the comment!
Yes, I agree and sometimes from themselves…
Unfortunately this type of a thing does happen more than it’s spoken about.
More heinous than abuse perpetrated on adults is the abuse of children.
On a lighter note, Reelika, I knew of them, but for whatever reason never listened to Type O Negative back in the day. Wonder what my current ears will think now? ?
Thank you for your comment Denise! And yes, while any violence is heinous the one that makes me shiver the most is done on children.
Hopefully you like the band, they have a bit “lighter” songs too on other albums that sound kinda hot.
Ooh, gritty but good.
Thank you Chris, for the comment!
Yeah it came a bit gritty even for me this time but am glad you think it’s good, means a lot coming from another writer, especially a fricking good one as you!
Such difficult subject matter. I chose a related topic. I think it is sad that domestic violence is both of our first mind when we hear the word help. Such is and has always been the way of the world.
It is unfortunate yes, especially with kids involved who are the ones that suffer the most, no kid should witness such horror and fear in the ages of their development.
While it may be easy to say for me that if I had a kid I would take my three things and leave in such a situation …
It remains the way of the world unfortunately and if I could I would change it, but I can only change my world just as one can choose their adult life and partner.
Thank you for your comment.
Your second sentence* totally brought the story out of the theatre of the mind to, at very least, the lobby!
Others reference how such acts should be regarded. Nothing to add other than they, (who would abuse children), are defective humans. They should be repaired or put out with the trash. (not re-gifted or re-purposed: ‘hey, we polished it up and he/she hardly ever misfunctions’ not allowed the opportunity again)
(reading my Comment before copy/Submit… if this comes off as too strident, feel free to delete. Seeing how the goal of fiction (especially this flash-istic story-telling) is to touch the Reader. you have succeeded admirably.
*don’t tell anyone, but am (momentarily) jealous of the touch-it imagery in this single scene. tres cool
Thank you for your comment once again Clark and no, it doesn’t come off as too strident at all, honest thoughts are always welcome here.
Though if someone said it’s utter shite I may run away crying so… yeah, there is that…
And I loved the second sentence the most myself too, your jealousy made me chuckle haha.
I found this really moving. I’ve never met anyone that was subject to abuse as a child or an adult, so I can’t even imagine what such prey must suffer.
Thank you for the comment Keith and you Are together with luck.
Victims of abuse wether direct or just as bystanders/witnesses hell doesn’t end when the abuse is over.
The harsh reality is the trauma they have received and healing from it.
Am happy it moved something and perhaps people can see the horror behind it through the eyes of the kid.
That last sentence says so much; a continuing struggle but also salvation. Well done.
Thank you so much :).
It’s so hard. When my children were young, some of their friends would come stay with us when things got too bad in their own homes.
Yeah, it is hard. And glad they had somewhere to stay. A lot of kids don’t unfortunately.