It’s Wednesday-Friday and time for another addition of Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for posting Sarah Potter’s picture and making us all think. Here is my 99-word story.
Samuel: Two-years-old
“Come to Mamma, baby boy, walk on over here! You can do it.”
Mamma: pretty and bright-eyed, dark-haired, plump.
Samuel: Eleven-years-old
“Honey, Mamma hasn’t got time right now. Run along.”
Mamma: thin, tired all the time.
Samuel: Eighteen-years-old
“Look, Buster, I’ve had it up to here with you. Get outta’ my face.”
Mamma: gaunt, jittery, hair matted and dull.
Samuel: Twenty-years-old
“Packed your bags. They’re by the back door. Get.”
Mamma: skeletal, dull-eyed, her hair gone limp and whispy as spider webs.
For the last time, Samuel shut the door against the chemical stench of crack cocaine.
Up From the Ashes 