Like a Leopard – A dark short story.

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Photo by Darshak Pandya from Pexels

 

Her father was full of ‘comforting’ phrases.

For example,

“There’s only a finite number of days in your life you know?” That was one of his favourites.

Another one was “When are you going to step out from the security of the home I’ve provided and face the world?”

It was just a key component of living under his roof. Facing this daily onslaught of mental attacks. Not just mental ones, when he’d had a skin full.

Someday she was going to just fly off the handle and let rip.

As she stepped out of the shower and into her bedroom, she towelled herself dry. She pulled on her leopard print leotard and then a tee shirt over the top. She could hear his breathing from behind her door. She could feel his eyes on her again, he was always looking. Making her feel sick.

She felt the dark energy building up inside her, giving her the strength to do something she had dreamed of over and over, every night since it had happened; commit murder.

Filled with this new dark energy, she picked up the knitting needle she’d kept handy and plunged it through the keyhole into the eye she knew would be there.

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https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/02/22/commit/

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/02/22/rdp-friday-security/

FOWC with Fandango — Finite

https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/02/22/your-daily-word-prompt-someday-february-22-2019/

https://lightmotifs.wordpress.com/2019/02/21/three-things-challenge-pl8/

Today’s prompt: leopard, tee shirt, component

This story was written in response to a challenge from the blog, Normal Happenings, see post below:

Dark Energy | Daily Inkling

The Challenge was to write a blog post inspired by the phrase, Dark Energy. Well, I think this tale was dark enough…

 

 

Friday Fictioneers – Dark Secrets – A Tale in 100 words.

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The vase of gilded roses sat, as they always had, on the sideboard in her grandmother’s neat apartment.

Next to them were the photographs of family members long gone, whose names she’d been made to commit to memory.

She had only once asked about the significance of those roses. Her grandmother’s eyes had welled with tears and so she’d changed the subject.

Their family had been prosperous and powerful once, but no one spoke of their fall from grace.

Someday, she hoped she’d have the courage to ask again and the courage to cope with her grandmother’s answers.

 

This was written for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers picture challenge:

22 February 2019

 

and also included the word prompts:

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/02/22/commit/

https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/02/22/your-daily-word-prompt-someday-february-22-2019/