February 7, 2012 § 4 Comments
The Day
As her father flirted with the woman, she laughed. His clean hands, her jewelry shone in the sunlight.
Blue suit hands on red dress.
Here. Now.
She took another drink, looked down at the black dress, pale face, purple skin and wondered and drank again.
Mom a short while away, she left the next day.
Tagged: abuse, alcoholism, family, funerals, microfiction, parental conflict, parental neglect, short fiction, stories
Very dark within a enlightened context, enjoyed the bitter draught offered…
Thanks!
So sad to read. Having to decide whether to remain or get out of an abusive relationship. There comes a time when you have to do what’s right for family and self. Very well written. Be blessed.
http://elizena-lovingmycreator.blogspot.com/2012/02/soul-song.html
Thanks! Yeah, it’s always a hard decision to make.