Petals Adrift, a Flash Fiction

This flash fiction was written for Friday Fictioneers. If you’d like to join in, click here. Thanks, Rochelle!


PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Petals Adrift (100 words)

You used to snort, call us delicate roses.

Seeing you now, a shrunken middle-aged woman against stark sheets, I weigh forgiveness.

Authorities on hard knocks seldom live on the streets with a teenage mom estranged from her parents. They don’t know about finding hiding places or begging for food while outsmarting predators or spending hours in a public library for warmth, to vanish into thousands of worlds of words.

Your eyelids flutter. “Gwen?” Disbelief then tears.

Frail fingers grasp mine.

“Good hiding spot?”

Crystal-clear: you were just a kid making bad decisions for you and your own kid.

“The best.”

end

Sascha Darlington

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32 replies »

  1. i like the short sentences, that give me a lot to think about, this is brilliant Sascha. you were just a kid making bad decisions for you and your own kid – this alone was a a story by itself.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This was brilliantly done, Sascha. I loved the “weigh forgiveness” and the “Authorities on hard knocks seldom live on the streets…” Wonderful phrasing and I just loved it.

    Like

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