Thirty Years
Sun, 10 Feb 2008 at 01:40pm
untitled
Boom.
Boom, boom, scream.
It was all I heard.
All the pots were broken, my mother was bruised, my father was shaking. It took us a month to get over that one.
The tension lifted, but it took all but a week for the next table to be broken, the next wall to crack and the next bruise to form. It wasn't my mother's skin this time. She had long broken, and she wasn't going to take it anymore. In the end, it was still her who suffered.
He was never afraid to threaten her with a knife, but had always been afraid to leave us.
August strikes thirty years.
Five others like this.
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2008-02-10
The commendations this piece recieved in IF1 were:
0 minus votes,
5 plus votes, and
0 astars.
2008-02-19
really good.waiting for the next one.why dont you write more often?
firefly_catcher
2008-02-14
You're one great surprise after another =)
+1
kluny
2008-02-10
Intense, man. +1
burning_sands
2008-02-10
wait for it.
claimed!
+1
bowers
2008-02-10
holy crap
love it
+1
kubix123
2008-02-29
Amby, I have told you many a time.
You're a good writer! :3