Mother, how could you? You’ve spoken to this recalcitrant child of seed, creating beauty in my malformed pulp through your tantrum of destruction; but this hurts me – leaves me a damaged husk straining to survive. Is this your intent? Am I to twist and writhe until all that once flourished is a tangled mass of malcontent? Mother… how could you?
© Copyright Nina D’Arcangela.
With each tear that fell from her cheek, another drop of laudanum fell from the pipette. Chewing her lower lip, she wondered if the choice she’d made was a just one. Closing her eyes, she drew forth a fond memory of her once vital son laughing as he played – a sound she’s not heard in some time. Her knees buckled as her resolve strengthened. A few more drops and his pain would be ended. Climbing the stairs, the glass of apple juice trembling in her hand, she choked back her own wail of agony.
© Copyright Nina D’Arcangela.
Sotet Angyal 