Silence

Lisa wanted silence. Coming home at six in the morning was too much. She didn’t expect for the little ones to be up. They needed, were needy—why had she gotten pregnant so young? She remembered how excited she’d felt when the first one was growing inside her. A baby to love her; things would be different than with her mother. She had collected dead birds as a child, burying them in the backyard. Naming each one as though they were her children. No one knew she had dug them up every six months to check on them. She needed to make sure they were alright; filling their boxes with candy hearts, crickets, and worms. She would kiss the birds and lovingly place them pack into the earth. She knew what it felt like to be interred. This particular morning, she needed her quiet. The littlest one wouldn’t stop crying; Lisa’s head felt full of fire. A sudden rage took over her small frame. She had an urge that was too strong to stop—A thud! She threw her baby across the room. A series of cries, then the silence she so craved.

Hi Robert! Can you post this on our Facebook page, please? http://www.facebook.com/#!/failbettercom Thank you!