It was ingrained in me from a very young age, that until the moment when I will step into my husband’s house, I was bounded by my mother’s rules. But,
I had just turned ten, and fuelled with the burst of pre-teen rebellion, I dared to turn a deaf ear to her various warnings of “no one better touch my coal burner before I get back”.
I dared. I decided to use it in my room. I lit the match, threw it into the burner filled with about a dozen coals (I didn’t know how to use it) and almost set my room on fire.
Mama returned back home as I was fervently trying to clean up my mess.
Safe to say, I learnt that day, though mama’s hands looked like wrinkled skin over flesh, they were in fact made of steel. I felt the steel that day.
Word count: 148 words. This story is in response to Flash Fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge hosted by Priceless Joy. Thank you for this week’s picture @ENISA