fiction

Victim

/ wvfurandroot / 1 Comment

The man looked at her for a long time – beginning at her face and traveling down her body to her feet.  His grin was salacious, and she visibly shuddered.

“Whatsa matter, darling?  I’m just admiring you.  Don’t be cruel.”

Glenna did her best to ignore him, but his slurred words and unsteady gate indicated an excess of alcohol that wasn’t about to be deterred. 

Photo by Nicola Fioravanti on Unsplash

“Aw, c’mon.  Smile for me.  You’d be much prettier if you would smile.”

“I have no obligation to be pretty for you or for anyone else,” she erupted.  She knew better than to respond but she was tired of men who behaved as if she owed them something.  And coming from one she didn’t know at all just punched all of her buttons.

“Now sweetheart, I meant no offense.  You are just a fine example of womanhood and I’m just an admirer.”

“Go away.  Now.”

“I can tell when I’m not wanted.”  To her surprise and his credit, he did turn around and begin walking in the opposite direction. He raised his right hand, middle finger extended, without turning around.  Relief surged through her body.  Now that he was gone, she took out her phone and pulled up Maps.  She was well and truly lost.  Thank God for GPS.  Her phone would know where she was even if she didn’t.  She began walking a few steps in one direction and then another to get her bearings on the map.  It looked like she needed to turn left at the next corner to get to her car. 

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They Had Had Too Much

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The day the women had had enough will be remembered. 

I believe, after the dust settles and the men get over themselves, we will come to revere the anniversary of the Women’s Rebellion.  For years people have spouted that famous proverb  “When sleeping women wake, mountains move.”

We have awakened.  We are woke.   And we have had quite enough thank you very much.

Photo by Gayatri Malhotra on Unsplash

I was proud to be with the women of my town on what began as a sleepy Saturday, August afternoon.  Congress made their announcement, timed for the weekend so as to escape the news cycle.  During the dog days of summer when they thought we were sleeping.  It was my birthday and I thought,, “How dare they!”  HOW fucking DARE THEY.  And I don’t use that word.  But I used it a lot that Saturday. 

On my birthday.  To make such an announcement.  I was not surprised, but I was outraged.  I hadn’t considered that all of womanhood would be as incensed. 

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A Perfect Breakfast

/ wvfurandroot / 2 Comments

Livia had been up for hours already.  She’d done a load of clothes, unloaded the dishwasher, and had been in the garden cutting daffodils to set in a vase on the kitchen table.  Looking out the window at the sunrise it occurred to her she should be hungry. 

Mornings without Greg were difficult and she was aware she filled them with activity to keep from thinking.  But the sunrise caught her attention and she allowed herself to remember.

Photo by Edgar Castrejon on Unsplash

Sunday.  Today was Sunday.  Greg would be in the kitchen separating eggs, slicing chives, and grating gruyere.  Opening the refrigerator to get the heavy cream, he would burst into song.  Probably an aria she wasn’t familiar with.  His love of opera confounded her. 

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Evergreen

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Appalachia was in the greening.  That time in early spring when the green leaves on the trees were so slight, so new, so small, that they were more of a green haze than a green bower.

The greening on this April day was superb.  The sky was the blue of a robin’s eggs with air so clear and so clean it was like Thanksgiving crystal before the feast.

With the revival of the garden, the greening, came the realization that winter was over.  Happiness flooded Charlotte’s heart.  On her knees, she pulled weeds from around the irises, making room for the hollyhocks to begin their biannual ascent.  “I am blissful,“ she said aloud.  She grinned though there was no one in the garden to see her or hear her.  

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