Her father worked evenings. That was good. She rarely had to be alone with him.
Getting off the school bus she checked the drive. He was home. Damn!
He would expect her to walk around naked so he could ogle and touch her.
Her mother was buried, no longer a wedge of protection. No siblings.
She stood there, on the edge; go in or not.
She backed away, fishing for her cell phone. She touched the only safe number.
“Dad’s home, therefore drunk. Can you come get me?”
Waiting, she decided to stick with the lie, he gets mean.
In response to Charli Mills -Carrot Ranch Literary
January 25, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that goes to the edge. Consider what the edge might be and how it informs the story. Go where the prompt leads.
Respond by January 30, 2018, to be included in the compilation (published January 31). Rules are here. All writers are welcome!
01/26/2018 at 22:37
I think you captured being on edge/the edge very well. I don;t think any f us would like to be in that girls position.
Thanks too for following my blog. Stop by anytime.
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01/27/2018 at 08:07
Thank you Michael
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01/27/2018 at 03:34
Reblogged this on Imagination and information for book's..
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01/27/2018 at 08:07
Thank you Michelle.
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02/01/2018 at 00:13
This is so poignant, Susan. Well done!
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