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Weekly Contest #42
A baby cries a sad, somber shriek of pain. I think of baby Timothy and how his slender throat would tremble and erupt into his delicate laughter when I would pinch his little nose. I think of Mama and her thin fingers as she would stroke my hair as I cried myself to sleep. We would lie there in the dark, surrounded by nothing, and yet everything. The bus lurches forward. My head thrashes awake and I feel the pain from all the years of living under Mama’s roof with her snake-like whip trickle down my aching spine. I can’t, I c...
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