The very nature of flash fiction is short. We are allowed 1,000 words or less.
Mama sings to me. In the morning it is always a song about sunshine and waking up to a new day. During bath time she sings about bubbles and frogs until I giggle. I like to sing with her. After the special book at nighttime, Mama hums a tune until my eyes grow heavy and I sleep. Papa doesn't sing, he yells.
When my friend Tommy comes over we play dinosaurs on the living room rug. I can hear Mama singing while she cooks supper. Papa loves spaghetti and I do too. Tonight I can smell the garlic bubbling in the sauce while I play with Tommy and Mama sings.
Mama came into the living room. "Supper is almost finished and your father is almost home. Time to pick up and for Tommy to go home."
I wanted to pout. My lower lip started to stick out.
"Come Joey, you're a big boy now," Mama said.
I knew better than to complain. Pouting didn't work with Mama.
"Come again tomorrow Tommy," Mama said and watched him run home. He lived next door.
I put the dinosaurs in the toy box.
"Wash up and help me set the table." Mama returned to the kitchen while I used soap and water and had fun splashing the sick until it was wet all over even on the mirror. I heard Papa come in. His big voice bellowed, "What's for dinner?"
"Your favorite," Mama said. She didn't sing after Papa came home. He didn't like it. I ran into the kitchen but Mama had already put the plates out.
I climbed into my booster chair. Mama put my bowl of spaghetti before me. I loved sucking the noodles up until they hit my forehead. Giggling I did it again.
Mama smiled at me. Papa frowned. "Stop that," he said.
Mama sat across from Papa. He looked mean tonight.
"I hate spaghetti," Papa said and picked up his plate, throwing it at Mama. She ducked and it splattered on the wall behind her. Noodles dripped from a picture frame. Papa stood. "No surprise in this marriage," Papa said and turned the table over. My bowl of spaghetti landed in my lap. I started to cry. Papa hit the wall with his fist and made a big hole. I ran to my room and hid under my bed. My legs shook while things broke in the kitchen.
That night Mama had black and blue spots all over her face. My tummy hurt bad so she laid down with me and hummed until I slept.
In the morning after Papa left Mama cried. She packed some clothes for me in her suitcase. I got to ride in a cab. Tommy didn't come over to the motel room but I still played dinosaurs on the floor. We had McDonald's for supper and Mama sang to me about the spider going up and down the drain pipe. I like it better without Papa.
500 Words
This is a fictional story and isn't about any person I know and isn't intended to represent anyone in particular. Abuse knows no nationality, no race, no gender, no religion. Abuse is rampant and our children suffer. Stop the abuse.
Copyright 2014
Let me know what you think. All critique allowed.
Nancy
