Thunder shook the house like a monster demanding entry.
One…Two…Edna counted until it passed.
Silence.
The house had become a tomb. Her adult children had rebuked every plea for forgiveness. Sometimes—like right now—she’d speak to the pictures instead.
It’s all your fault, slithered a voice that wore the face of her husband. She wanted to spit on that face now. Instead, she ran a finger over each child in the picture.
Why did she ignore the abuse happening right under her nose? She had the perfect family…perfect…perfect…
At what cost? Her not-husband asked.
Silence was her only answer.
About the Creator
Miss Persephone's Manual to a Seemingly Ordinary Life
Miss Persephone was found at the dining table, her blue eyes swollen, her tears arriving and retreating like the tides of the ocean. Earlier that day, her family had visited her in the retirement home where she had lived for eight years. It was her eightieth birthday.
By Imola Tóth6 days ago in Fiction
Smart phones, Humans and Aliens.
WARNING. I will be tapping into one of your favorite creative tensions: The absurdity of humans worshipping their glowing rectangles as if they were tiny oracles. There’s something deliciously poetic about that contradiction, and it lends itself beautifully to an instructive proviso.
By Novel Allen5 days ago in Poets
Comments (1)
This is a good one. Good work.