Secret Wish
Her rosebud cheeks and dancing eyes gleamed against the soft glow in the dark room. Hushed whispers of anticipation all around her and she sucked in with a mighty pull, hesitated briefly and then blew as hard as she could.
The room exploded with laughter and clapping but her face was troubled as the lights came on.
“Mommy.” She pleaded, glaring at the single candle still burning.
“That’s ok baby, her mother said. “Eight’s a lot; just keep the wish secret.”
“That’s right,” her father said. “You tell and it won’t come true.”
Then she opened presents from her parents and their friends and each gift came with a declaration from her father.
“Was that your wish peaches?” He would ask.
“No, but thank you very much Mr. and Mrs. So and so.”
Her mother was cleaning the party mess that evening when the door cracked and the air went dead and still. Her father always brought the air when he came alone. He talked to her in his evil softness and touched her leg and she pretended to sleep; all the while hating the lie of her mother. She hadn’t told a soul her wish, not even God.
Tags: child abuse, Fiction, flash fiction
You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.