Many thanks to Rochelle for Friday Fictioneers!

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson


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.


7 thoughts on “Monster

  1. 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.



Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.