Many thanks to Rochelle for Friday Fictioneers!
PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson
Monster
Mama grew up in Kansas, thought moving to Tennessee would be safety, but the Alley moved too.
On Spring weekends, she’d scrutinize clouds, possessed.
It was a Sunday when Mama grabbed our wrists, called Pup who came, for once, and sought cover in the basement.
Screeches, wailing surged overhead, the worst dream-monsters alive. Banging, the cracking of wood beams. Mama hugged us close.
“Banshees, babies, banshees.”
I thought whoever banshees were would get us like they did Mama’s folks, but they didn’t.
We lost everything. But us.
Now, decades later, I watch my kids play and the Spring clouds–always.
end
I loved the idea of the Alley moving too
Excellent. No hiding from the monster of Mother Nature.
Dear Sascha,
The idea of the alley moving intrigued me. Perhaps she should’ve moved to the coast. However then you worry about hurricanes. At any rate, well written.
Shalom,
Rochelle
Nature and life intertwined,
Some memories you can’t afford to forget. Beautiful storytelling, Sascha.
There are all kinds of monsters, most of us survive all of them. Well done.
In so few words, you managed to express a depth of longing, fear, dread, and survival. Well done.