flash fiction friday #81
slightly late but i put 5pawpaw in the ground before i reach here, so, fight me.
flash fiction friday #81; [inclusions] trigger: blood, bite, sting, fight, swing.
rules of engagement:
you will send in your suggestions for flash fiction friday triggers (starter sentences/phrases, closers, titles, inclusions, structural/thematic challenges, etc.) anytime during the week up to 11.09a.m. friday, trinbago time; i will post the new fff trigger by noon friday trinbago time.*
if your trigger is not chosen and you think it is too brilliant not to be chosen, you will send it in again the next week.
you will write an anecdote, short story, song or novel length prose poem using the trigger provided.
you will add comments and appropriate linkage to this/my trigger-post indicating your desire to participate and the completion of your piece (don't need a blogger/gmail account to comment here).
you may join in at any time prior to deadline.*
you will display your piece as a post on your own blog (or as a comment on this/my trigger-post or fasbook note or instastory or whaever, once we can all read it; please make sure we can all access the link to read it, not just those who are your friends online).
you will be done by monday noon trinbago time.*
[in light of collective busyness and my general mentality, i not pressed about these deadlines 'cause i'd rather have fun reading late than never, so if you want to fff past deadline, go through hard, just make sure you comment on the appropriate trigger-post so we know which it belongs to, and if is a real old trigger, comment on the most recent post as well so we know something new to back-back+read...if nobody fffs i leave the same trigger up until at least 1person other than myself writes a piece]*
write fresh!
walk good.
posted by sweet trini @ 12:32 pm
5 comments
5 Comments:
TRIGGER WARNING: The following evokes images of SEXUAL VIOLENCE and may disturb some readers.
Bite your tongue because blood is thicker than water,
Bite your tongue because boys don’t cry and we certainly don’t tell,
Especially not to our mothers who can’t hear, won’t hear and would rather not know of our fights, in the night,
Bite your tongue and try not to wince,
Even though it stings, when I sit,
Bite your tongue and show some damn respect,
You are who you are and I am what I am, to you
Though I am nothing to myself,
Tonight, I lie sleepless in this bed,
Still fearful of how your mood will swing,
Whether it will be another night of breathe and push,
Another night of lies and truth,
Of body present but mind far away,
Away, somewhere imaginary,
Somewhere safe,
I still don’t feel calm about the fact,
That you lie peacefully now,
In loving memory in the minds of your wife, your brothers, your friends,
You see, you are a part of me and you always have been,
Even before I knew what your release,
Your relief, felt like dribbling down the inside of my leg,
You were a part of me even before then,
Good night Trevor,
My boyfriend-father,
I hope you burn forever,
in Hell.
Every morning, the clouds would roll in from the east. The first two hours, when the sun giving off more light than heat were the most deceptive. Fat gray masses would come up, covering sunlight, the temperature of the early morning threatening to dip back into the feel of night. He would sit and watch and wait, but nothing. The rain never fell by him. The breeze would start to blow and it would swing north by his sistrin or south by his cousin. It never fall by him.
This have to be personal.
Two weeks of the same thing, morning after morning rain passing him straight and leaving him to fight back the tears stinging his eyes.
This is what does break big man back eh? Cloud?
He shake his head at this. He watch the sky some more and convinced that there would be no change today he bite his lip and set his mind.
No rain didn't mean no wuk.
He putting sweat and tears into this thing and is like the sky god want blood and maybe he know why.
Well, this morning, is blood he go get.
Is two weeks it take him to get here. Five years since he join the church and singing to jesus. Two weeks no rain and that five years down the drain. The only reason it take him so long is because he fight. He fight so much. For two weeks, when he see no rain he go and bathe, put on his press pants and shirt grab for bible and head to church. While he there he would feel reborn, replenished. He was sure he would be rewarded for his faith. He not a heathen like his sistrin, or his cousin. Yet where the rain fall? This jesus he learn about, they say he could work miracles. He didn't even want a miracle, just a lil rain.
Doh even want all the rain, it could still swing north or south if it want, once it start fall by me.
When he was there the day before, he take it to the priest. A white man with some thin lips who thought he was the carpenter. He still calling him Joseph all this time. He and Joseph look nothing alike, other than they both tall and black. He give up trying to correct him years now.
Brother Joseph, how can I serve?
Fadda Priest, I wondering about when dis rain will come. I been praying like you say, is two weeks now Fadda, and no rain.
You must not be impatient, Brother. Think of when you are building a bench or a cabinet. I'm sure it's not something you can rush, it must be crafted. Craft takes time. If you pray and keep a true heart, be patient, the Lord always hears you, but he will not work on your timing. For He is all that is great and powerful and mysterious. Woe be unto man to know His way.
He leave with this ringing in his head, 'He will not work on your timing'. So then, what was the point? When you need rain, you ask the sky god. When you want protection on your journey, you ask the earth god. It will do you no good to get rain when you want to travel, or travel protection when you want rain.
What is the point?
He turn his back. The sun coming up in the east, fighting to burn through the thick, mocking cloud. He had enough. He didn't care if the neighbour see him and went and tell the Fadda Priest. He had no more time for them and the jesus foolishness.
Mysteries and patience!
He didn't try to hide. Sit down right under his mango tree in the open with the chicken in his hand and shout it loud too so sky god could hear him.
I know you and you know me. My ancestors knew you and you knew them. This, is fuh you.
With this he buss the chicken throat. The way Sister Ruth, his neighbour, would tell it in the church that night, she swear he went mad. She hear him with her own ears and see with her own eyes. Blasphemer! The worst part, what make her soul grow cold and cause her to grab for bible and come straight to church she say, is how he laugh and laugh in the rain that had finally decide to fall in the village that morning.
finally done@ https://urbanfolktales.blogspot.com/2020/04/fff81.html and cyah wait to read...
@swantastico: holy shit, dread! that was very, very good. and very, very different, for you :]
@adam i enjoyed this, especially "This is what does break big man back eh? Cloud?"
:]
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