Jealousy #amwriting

Thank you to Rochelle for providing Friday Fictioneers!





That summer I heard my first bobwhite. “I love that call,” I said.

We sat on a boulder, our feet dangling into the trickling creek.

You tried to kiss me, but I pushed you away. Your face flushed, and you clenched my wrist in an iron-hold, twisting so it burned.

“Don’t ever push me.”

“I’m with Bobby,” I said, yanking my hand free and then tried to sooth my wrist in the cold water.

You stomped away, your footsteps crunching on old leaves.

In the morning when I left the cabin, a bloodied bobwhite lay silently on the wood porch.



Sascha Darlington 6/19/2018


19 replies »

  1. Great writing, it gives me goose pimples. And the use of bobwhite and Bobby the boyfriend makes it a lot more frightening because the bird is a symbol for what could happen to the boy.


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