Nillani

What are parents? That is a question. That is a good question. What are they? Why are they? Why do mothers abandon their children? Why do they neglect them? Why do they give them to other people, instead of taking responsibility over their own mistakes?

Mistakes.

That's what I am to her, a mistake!

Sometimes I wonder, what it would be like if she were dead. Or if she died in the beginning, when I was born. Would things be different? Better?

I don't think so. Sure, the situation would be different, maybe even the feelings. But... better?

No.

My parents are good, you know. My fake ones. But they don't count. Not really. Oh, it was fine when I was a kid and everything. I was relatively happy.

Why couldn't it stay that way? Picnics in the park, swimming lessons down at the beach. Why didn't it? Why did she have to come back?

"Give me back my baby!"

Please.

Doesn't she realize - she's no-one to me.

No-one.

Just a speck, some stupid way of beginning.

Why wasn't she more, why didn't she try?

I hate her so much I want to cry.

And yet...

There is something... sometimes.

I have... glimpses, of a thing like happiness, with her.

But not much.

Every now and then, the coldness of my skin scares me. It makes me feel dangerous. Like I could do things.

Bad things.

But why do I even have a sense of what's bad and what's... wrong? Shouldn't I be all bad?

I'm not, though. At least, I don't think I am. I love my parents, even if they are fake ones.

It's not them that I want to hurt.

It's her.

I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do with this piece, whether it's an introduction, or an excerpt, or just a short story?? I'm not sure. What do you think of it?

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-No Turning Back...

Ungood

poem perhaps?

Has all the makings of this great lament, or heartfelt poem of some kind.

Ungood.

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lin

Boy, I was glad to get to the last line and be sure this was fiction not confession.

NO, it's not a poem. I get so tired of people thinking you can just take a rant or essay and call it a poem and it will be poetry.

I think what you have here is what people are calling "Flash Fiction" these days, prose under 1000 words or whatever figure they dream up.

I'd treat it as that. It could be an intro to something (something pretty creepy, I'd suspect). The little italics thing at the start of a novel where we end up finding out it's actually the kindly social worker whose killing the young unwed mothers because of her warped childhood relations, something like that.

But for now, what you have is "Flash"

Or possibly a note I wouldn't recommend leaving at the scene of the crime.

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smilinghelps

As a mother who is doing everything in my power to protect my child, I can't even comment. It conjured up a ton of emotion, if that helps you at all.

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"I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day."
E. B. White

Nillani

sorry!! I didn't mean to offend. I was just trying to imagine what it must feel like to be in that position. I ment NO OFFENSE to mothers!!! I have a wonderful mother, and I love her a lot. But it is good, I believe, that it conjured up a lot of emotion. That was it's purpose.

Yes, Flash Fiction is probably a good way to describe it. I'm not sure if I could go on with it. It has a lot of hate. And I don't have a storyline, so far. But thank-you for your comments

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-No Turning Back...

smilinghelps

Don't even apologize at all! I wasn't offended. It made me very emotional--therefore, good stuff.

Keep on writing--and loving your mom

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"I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day."
E. B. White

Candrah

I like this. Lots of interesting thoughts and emotions stirred up. You made me stop and think and as a reader I love that!

Great work.

Nillani

ty

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-No Turning Back...