Tuesday, July 26, 2011

I still can't believe she gone.

Every Wednesday I participate in the Indie Ink Writing ChallengeThis week I challenged Sunshine, and Bewildered Bug challenged me with: 'I can't believe she's gone.

Edit: The original story I posted was the same story, but I attempted to write it with a dialect that didn't work. I didn't like it at all, but felt rushed to post it because it was Wednesday! So I edited to how I liked it, and here is the result. I'm too much of a pansy to leave up the crappy version of it, so if you want to read it for some reason, just email me...

I’m not going lie and say my mom never tucked me in at night. There were some nights where, just before we were getting into bed, she would come knocking on my nana’s door where we lived. Words would always be exchanged between my nana and my mom with my nana saying that it was too late; she should come back another time. My mom always insisted on seeing us kids though, saying that it took quite a lot for her to get herself over to this part of town.

When my nana would let her in she’d make a beeline for the room I shared with my brother and sister. She would go around to each of our beds and sit her skinny bum on the edge of the hard matress and tickle our backs. Oh, how we loved getting our backs tickled. She would run her long fingernails up and down our bare skin, and it always felt so good because they were those ugly fake plastic ones. 

On the nights I could smell the alcohol on her breath, which was most of the nights, I knew it wasn’t going to be a very good back tickling. She would usually nod off as she was running her fingers down our backs, causing us to shout out to her to wake up and keep on tickling.

One night she kept nodding off and it was making me mad. I asked her if she could just please, for one night, stay awake and let me be the one to fall asleep. She didn’t like my attitude, though, and slapped me across my face. I started crying and my nana rushed into the room, demanding to know what happened. My mom started yelling and screaming saying she knew how to raise her own kids, and why couldn’t my nana just leave her alone.

My nana was full of her shit though, and told her to leave and to never come back.  I never again saw my mom after that night and I still can’t believe she gone. 


  1. it's very folksy. I like the overall story, I'm just not sure about the dialect. Could just be me :)

  2. This took a lot of effort, I feel.  Short, but not so sweet.  I appreciate that you tried to go in a less obvious and more "outside the box" direction. 

  3. A short story - but these often are more difficult to write. You've dome a good job getting across what you wanted here.

  4. I found myself smiling as your story made me think about how my son asks me to rub his back every night at bedtime. I could feel the irritation as the expectation of her coming there was overwhelmed by the fact that she was always drunk. This is sad, but very well written. There is just enough bitterness to keep it going, to feel her pain, and not too much that you drown it. Great job. I hope you do more with it later.

  5. I always have trouble with dialects. I think the come across sounding really fake when I do them. I thought you did a good job with yours but I do think this version feels a little more "comfortable"

  6. Short, yet too the point--perhaps a lot like your character Nana... :) Good job!