Friday Fictioneers – Dark Magic

wheel

Photo courtesy: J Hardy Carroll

Dark Magic

100 Words

 

Paula ignored the mean girls’ bullying.

“Hey loser!  The back of your head looks like your face – flat and hairy!”  They erupted in giggles but Paula remained calm.

“Hey WITCH!!”  This time, with a discernible thread of hatred, “Your Mother killed herself cuz she couldn’t stand to look at your ugly, wart face!”

That hit the nerve.

The ride began its tilting swirl, becoming faster, reaching higher.  Paula lifted her chin to feel the wind, and to listen for the screams from the girls as their car mysteriously dismantled.

Just like Mother, they will pay for their words, she thought.

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All the small things

Almost a year has passed.

Our Christmas holiday felt like the most connected in many years.  Wholly.  Not just parts of it, like the time he gave me a lovely necklace.  The gifts were thoughtful and personal, yes, but it was more than that.

He asked me last year, through tears, what about all of our pictures, and our movies, and our inside jokes?  At the time, they seemed irrelevant.  I was looking at what I thought was the bigger picture.  It was indeed, but I think mostly it was a rear-facing mirror image and it was so big, I just couldn’t see my way around it.  I figured the only way to move forward was to leave all of that behind, and that included tossing aside all the small things.

From far away, they are like a mosaic; a living, growing work of art.  The weekend trips to the beach punctuated by familiar words and phrases when familiar landmarks and places are within sight.  The holiday movies, the actors’ lines that we repeat together, or say individually which evokes laughter every single time, year after year.  The songs and lyrics culminated over time that can pinpoint a memory like a single star in a giant constellation.  The “Do you remember when’s” and “omg, what about’s” and “Can you believe we’s”.

I didn’t realize just how important these things were during the first half of last year when I was ready to leave and create a new mosaic.

Our picture has not been pretty, but it’s ours.  Our life.  Our knitting together of experiences, and though the edges are tattered, they continue to stretch out and grow, and the center is most solid.