July 06, 2009
Microfiction: three times fifty
.
She smiled from the irony of how getting the old band back made her feel like a new woman. Her tenth anniversary of sobriety was surely significant in the refreshment, but there was something more, something bigger. Or perhaps louder, she thought, as she plugged in and the amps popped.
Mom often gave us a choice back then – turn the television off and get outside or get busy with a mop and broom inside. How different was the world, when sending the kids to play god-knows-where, out of sight and mind, was a natural part of their upbringing.
Often there seem to be “I know who you are” situations, where the various power players are at north and south poles, ready to charge and bash each other’s brains out. And who is in the middle? All of the regular folks who punch time cards and use paper maps.
.
She smiled from the irony of how getting the old band back made her feel like a new woman. Her tenth anniversary of sobriety was surely significant in the refreshment, but there was something more, something bigger. Or perhaps louder, she thought, as she plugged in and the amps popped.
Mom often gave us a choice back then – turn the television off and get outside or get busy with a mop and broom inside. How different was the world, when sending the kids to play god-knows-where, out of sight and mind, was a natural part of their upbringing.
Often there seem to be “I know who you are” situations, where the various power players are at north and south poles, ready to charge and bash each other’s brains out. And who is in the middle? All of the regular folks who punch time cards and use paper maps.
.
Labels: Microfiction, words, writing
