Friday, August 19, 2011

Parallel lives ...

I had to leave immediately. I couldn't take another minute of the screaming.

The way that my parents used to talk to one another - that loving and beautiful relationship - it was so special. So important. So what I wanted to have in my life. So the way things were supposed to be.

A hand held as they crossed the street. A small smile across the room. Fingers resting, tapping, gently on a knee under the table.

But now? Now there were so many hurtful words. So much anger. So much heat. Not the good heat. Not the passionate kind. The one without emotion. There was so little love. It was so painful to listen to. My heart hurt to hear it. I couldn't take it much longer.

I wasn't sure which was worse. The screaming and yelling, or the silence. Oh, the silence.

I swore to myself that this would never be my life. I'd never have those glaring moments with my husband. I'd never think to myself 'what am I doing here?' and I'd never, ever EVER want to walk out that door.

But I just couldn't take it here. I couldn't take the way that they spoke to each other. Who were these people? Why would they behave that way in front of their children? Their beautiful daughter. Me. Why would they do this?

Who screams like this to communicate? Who talks that way to another human being? I felt so sad. So hurt to be exposed to such words. Such pain. Such lack of emotion.
So little love.

So I stood up and walked to the door. Looked back behind me with tears in my eyes. A quick glance over my shoulder.

And then I realized I was already home.

This story is fiction. It was written in response to the Red Writing Hood prompt this week. Our first and last line were given to us and this is what I came up with. Critique welcomed.


  1. This reminds me of a friends household, so very sad, you wrote it so well. Glad to hear it was fiction!

  2. The story here felt so real. I wasn't sure if you decided to do a non-fiction piece until I read at the end that this was fiction. Great job with the realism.

    I was hoping for a happy ending. For a resolution to the arguing and THAT being the reason you would realize you were "already home." I think this only comes from the fact that I knew what the last sentence was going to be though...

    And the fact that I am a hopeless romantic. :)

  3. I'm happy to hear this is fiction, but there are so many kids who have to go through this, and I thought you portrayed that well.

  4. Such a real story for so many.
    So relatable andrea!

  5. Ugh, what pain. Well written, I believed every word, wanting to offer comfort and a hug.

  6. I really like this. You brought forth the anger and frustration really well.

    Did you find it as awkward as I trying to get the first and last lines to gel with the rest?

  7. What a sad that is felt by so many I'm sure. You did an excellent job of portraying that pain and frustration, the absolute need of the main character to never be at that point in her own relationships.

    Stopping by and following from WOE. Great job!

  8. For such a painful subject this was written so beautifully. I could feel the pain.

  9. I would have thought it was real. You did a great job of bringing the emotion to the piece!

  10. That really did feel real. I wanted to read more!

  11. Like the others, I worried this was real. Well done!

  12. So glad you said it was fiction. You brought that feeling out so well. I've heard those screams. I've heard that silence.

  13. I'm so glad to hear this isn't real. I think you did an excellent job of capturing that tension and pain, the way the narrator vows to never have that life.

  14. I like what you did with this a lot! It was hard to read, because the subject matter was so intense. Especially for a mom. But it should be hard to read--that's the whole point.

    Really well done.

  15. Hi my name is Andrea and I am a super talented story writer!! At first I wasn't sure where you were going and breathed a sigh of relieve when I read "fiction":)

  16. Like the others, I wondered if this internal monologue was fiction or non-fiction until the end. I had a very clear picture of an angry, confused teenager. The voice was very authentic.

    I felt a little like the last line was kind of tacked on, but, having done this prompt myself, I fought and fought that last line, until I finally changed it to suit me.


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