The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!
by Lydia Prime
I’m not sure what putting my name above this iron door was meant to do, whether they intended to remember me or if it was to keep me locked away and hide their guilt. If I could just push through, move past the burning sensation and find myself on the other side…
I want to see my family, I want to watch them grow and hear them laugh. They should know I’m there. They should welcome me and answer when I speak to them rather than ignore me as if I were some insignificant bug.
I know I’d been getting clumsy, moved glasses here or broken mirrors there – but I didn’t mean to frighten anyone. I didn’t push Rick down the stairs on purpose, but he shouldn’t have disregarded my question about our baby. I just want to be heard, to be noticed.
As I bang my fists against the gate for the umpteenth time a white hot pain shoots through my palms and I can’t take it anymore. I cry out half hoping someone, anyone, will rush to my side. They don’t. I pace back and forth in my tiny box, tears soothing my seared hands. All my wailing seems hopeless until I hear a faint giggle from outside. Is it them? Rushing to the gate and carefully leaning close enough not to touch it again, I see Rick and my son walking up.
For a moment, it looks as if Rick can see me. It feels like our eyes have locked for the first time in… well, longer than I even know. I crouch down, longing to stick my hand through the gate and touch my baby boy’s face. He sees me, I know he does. He slides a dandelion through the gate and I touch him for the briefest of seconds before a teary eyed Rick scurries him away.
“Come back!” I yell, I plead. “Come back! Don’t leave me here, please!” I slam my palm against the gate and it aches more than ever. They’re out of my sight before I know it and tears are spilling onto my damaged hands.
Fiction © Copyright Lydia Prime
Image courtesy of Nina D’Arcangela
More about Lydia Prime:
Lydia grew up in a small, ‘Mayberry,’ sort of town, in New Jersey. She thoroughly enjoys gummy bears and laughing through the darkest depths of life. More often than not, she writes about demons and monsters, however, being a recovering addict tends to turn inner demons into fearsome foes to be fought beyond the constraints of the mind. ‘Sometimes,’ she states, ‘what’s inside, is scarier than anything reality throws at you.’
Please visit Lydia on Facebook for more info.