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About This Author
 Kiya is a young woman with many interests. She's got a degree in Computer Science and Registered Nursing.
She's an avid reader and considers Stephen King one of her favorite authors.
She's also been known to pen one or two stories here and there, and as a proud moderator of Writing.Com, she invites you to check out her portfolio (and even better, to sign up today!).
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Daily Flash Fiction Entries #443398 added July 26, 2006 at 7:27pm
Restrictions: None
A Mother's Love
Written for the "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge" 
Prompt: A woman slowly unravels after suffering a personal loss.
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Sweat, like tiny teardrops, stood out on her brow as she scrubbed at the stubborn stain on the wall. She had no idea why Brandon would wear his muddy boots into the house when she had specifically warned him not to do so.
“Goodness,” she muttered to herself, wringing the cloth in the now murky bucket of water. “I’m going to have to ground him for not listening to me. And look at this! Look at his bed! He can’t even make it right.”
She rose to her feet, dropping the wet rag to the floor in disgust. With hands on her hips, she eyed the room with its walls completely covered with images of bands and half-naked women. Oh, how she longed to rip them down, but she knew Brandon wouldn’t like her touching his things.
“Well, someone’s got to clean up this mess,” she said with a firm nod, hands already moving towards the bed to pull off the blanket.
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Alan watched his wife from the safety of the doorway, feeling his heart break into a million pieces as she fell on her hands and knees again to scrub the already sparkling floor.
The pungent smell of antiseptic assailed his senses, making his eyes water, and masking the tears that slid slowly down his cheeks. For the past three months, it had been like this. He could do nothing but watch his beautiful wife become a shadow of her former self as she went about her motherly duties to a son that was no longer with them.
She had taken his death too calmly, too rationally. He should have suspected this would happen.
“He’ll be home soon,” he heard her murmur as she began to make the bed all over again. “I had better get dinner ready.”
Word Count: 300 |
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