A Little Short Story.


Bubble gum. Cotton candy. A little girl’s bicycle, you know the one. The one with the sparkle strings coming out of the handlebars with the little basket on the front. The color of my favorite medicine my mom would give me when I was sick. The color of the slap mark he put across my face.

The sky on a sunny day. The ocean as it rips against the shore covering my bare feet in salt and foam and bubbles. A baby boy’s nursery complete with adorable stuffed animals and books and a rocking chair. A bluebird singing nearby in a tree. The color of the bruise he gave me for not listening to him.

Soda pop. Pumpkins. Flowers. Tangerines. Carrots. The color of the shirt he was wearing when he hit me so hard that he rendered me unconscious.

Grass. The leaves on the trees through the spring until the end of summer. My favorite candle that smells like apples. The beautiful ivy that grows up the sides of charming old houses. The color of his eyes that grow more and more intense the angrier he gets.

Orchids. Lavender. Grape jam.My favorite sweater, the one with the flowers on it. Plums. The rain that Prince sang about. My favorite color. The color of the skin around my eyes that people are starting to question me about.

Sunshine. Lemons. Canaries. My favorite flip flops that I wear to the beach. Bananas. Rubber duckies. Sunflowers. The submarine the Beatles sang about. The color of the bile I heaved up after he punched me in the stomach repeatedly.

Cherries. Roses. Apples. Firetrucks. Cranberries. Stop signs. Strawberries. Rasberries. My favorite shade of lipstick. Tomatoes. The color of the blood that seeped from the stab wound above my right hip.

Chocolate. Dirt. Tree trunks. Brownies. Pennies. Puppies. Coffee beans. My favorite pair of high heels. The color of the carpet he dragged me across.

Snow. Egg shells. Doves. Bunnies. Piano keys. Fluffy kittens. Shoelaces. Powdered donuts. The pages of books. The color of the door frame I tried to hold onto as he dragged me outside.

The color of the handle of the butcher knife.
The color that replaced all of the green in his eyes.
The color his soul would be if souls created color.
The color of the dirt he threw on top of me.
The only color I saw as I was buried alive.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s