Kim Horton briefly steps away from her series, The Long Road Home, to give us another brilliant piece of flash fiction. This one has warmth all over it…

She sat alone in the dark. The salty taste of her tears on her lips.

“Stop It! Just stop it!” She told herself.

But she couldn’t stop the tears from coming. They poured from her eyes in torrents. A seemingly endless fountain that could not be contained. Now, she was crying, because she was crying.

It had been a horrible day, and now that darkness had fallen, it wasn’t getting any better. Now, the house would be quiet, which would be even worse. The one thing she had to live for would be sleeping. Tucked in his bed, dreaming peacefully, unaware of the anguish she was going through.

She gets off the floor and goes in to check on him. He looks almost angelic as he lays there sleeping. She steps quietly from the room not wanting to wake him.

Back in the kitchen she slumped to the floor once again. Tears still streaming down her cheeks, she tried to cry quietly. She thought about reaching for the bottle of rum she had tucked away in the cabinet. “ No, that would only make it worse. Then you would not only be bawling, but then you would be a bawling drunk,” she told herself.

“Shake it off. So, you had a bad day.”

But the truth was, she had had several bad days. She knew it would pass, but not tonight.

“Damn people! Why do they pretend to be your friends then turn their backs on you when you need them. It’s not like I was asking them the help me move or anything. Would it be so hard to give out an encouraging word? Hell, even a discouraging word would have been something. Anything. Anything but ignoring me.”

She did not know how long she had sat there cradling herself and rocking back and forth. Trying desperately to make the aching in her chest subside. She had thought she was pretty much over all that. It had been a very long time since she cried, much less felt the brutal tearing of her heart, again. The pain not only mental, but physical as well. That feeling that someone had stuck a stick in her chest and wound it up with all the feelings she had left, and ripped it right out. She envisioned a child poking a stick in a spider’s web and twirling it around. Then, suddenly jerking the fibers out in one swift movement.

She snapped out of the nightmare and tried to dry her eyes. She got up to go in and check on her son once again. Kneeling down beside the bed she bowed her and thanked God for him. Without him, she would not have made it this long. He stirred and she was afraid she had awaken him. She did not want him to she her like this. She was supposed to be strong for both of them. As she was getting up from the floor a groggy little voice said,” Mommy?”

She answered “Yes, baby”

He turned towards her, unaware of her tears and said, “I love you Mommy.” Then turned back over and went back to sleep.

Those four words stopped her in her tracks.

She knew right then and there, that regardless of what anyone thought, she did mean something. Something to somebody. No matter what.

© 2010, kimsworld. All rights reserved.

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