Mental Health Friday #19

The cop came back into the living room where I was sitting, nursing my two and a half month old daughter. “The boy didn’t make it,” he said. “Ma’am, I need you to come with me.” I handed my baby girl over to her dad as I got up from the couch to obey the officer.

His words drifted through my foggy mind as I told myself, this is all just a bad nightmare— I will wake up soon. With no socks or shoes on my feet, I silently followed the officer out of my house not knowing that would be the last time I would ever exit that front door. Yet, I felt an unusual calm and peace enter my heart as I sensed that this was “my path” or “my destiny.”
Little did I realize my journey would lead me into years of torment and pain when the truth finally came crashing through my delusional head….
*****

I once had a previous life where I attended college full-time, studying business management. I held on tight to a 3.9gpa as I managed to make mostly straight A’s in my classes. I was officially divorced from the abusive “sperm-donor” of my happy little boy who seemed content without a man in the house. I smoked marijuana on a regular basis to help me with my terrible mood swings as well as to help me focus on my homework (which I started to find hard to concentrate on while sober).

Then a few years later, during my senior year of college, I became pregnant again with my daughter. I was excited and filled with joy at the opportunity to raise two children as a single parent. My daughter’s father was a good man that kids naturally seemed to flock to. My son adored him and in spite of our cultural differences, he accepted me and my son as family.

He helped me when he could; however, with his mother being in her late 70’s, he lived with her in an apartment across town to take care of her. As a result, we never officially “lived together” and this arrangement worked perfectly with my increasingly introverted self.

Then came the day that I started speaking in tongues (and no, I wasn’t at some radical church at the time). I was home alone with my two children. I also had an “internal interpreter” who could understand just what I was saying. I went to the bathroom to use the facilities and then I started to shout out a name. I heard my son saying “What?”
This happened about three times until my son opened the bathroom door and said, “What?” again.
“In the name of Jesus you shall flee!” I shouted at him from the toilet in English.
My son replied: “Goodbye.” Then he shut the bathroom door.

Once I got done in the bathroom, I went to check on my son. He was in his room holding a little ball. He told me,
“Mama, I tried to hit that boy with the ball, but he flew out the window.”
I knew then that a demon was trying to attack my son. Yet, I had a sense of knowing that this moth that was flying around in his room was actually that demon which transformed and it would be dead soon.

The very next morning, as I was nursing my daughter on the couch, my son came out of his room with the dead moth in his hand. So I “knew” the demon was gone… This initial experience along with my son’s statement and behavior started my trip into what most would call a very delusional and psychotic journey.
The command hallucinations held me like a puppet on strings for about a week doing various things to rid the demon from my son as I thought the voice in my head was God telling me what to do. For example, I started fasting and eating nothing, just drinking water.

Flash Fiction: Off Limits

Johnny raced to his mother, clutching her hand and dragging her to the riverbank,
“There mama”, he pointed at what appeared to the ordinary eyes as a slow-moving swamp river, with over grown bushes on the sides.
“Isn’t that the most beautiful river mama, like those of fairytales.”

“Oh Johnny,” his mum ruffles his hair, “there’s nothing remarkable about a muddy water.”
Johnny looked up at his mother in bewilderment. Why couldn’t she see what he was seeing.
“But ma,” he protested until she pried him off the site reluctantly, telling him not to let his imaginations get the best of him.

That night, under starless skies with a solitary half-moon shining, Johnny’s mother made her way to the river bank, the same one Johnny had seen.
“I know what you are trying to do”, she spoke into the flowing river, her face as fierce as an angry gypsy,
“So let me make something clear, my kid is off limit. And I’m sure neither one of us wants me to come back here again, because that won’t be pleasant.”

With that, Johnny’s mother made her way back to the camp knowing the intended recipient had got the message.

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word count: 198. This Flash Fiction is in response to a photo prompt hosted by the social underground.

Flash Fiction: What had happened was-

“Is that bleating, I hear?” Inquired Mr. Jones, whilst gripping the steering wheel.
Silence followed his question and he attributed the noise to his ears playing tricks on him. That was until, he heard the same noise again.

“I may be old, but I’m not that old. What is going on?” he demanded.
Silence again. He shook his head, and turned the ignition off to face a pale looking ten year old boy, shaking at the backseat and chewing on his lips.

“Junior?” Mr. Jones raised his brow.

“What had happened was,” began junior, stammering, the goat had looked at him with such pleading eyes that he begged grandpa, to let him bring it along.

Mr. Jones wiped his palm across his forehead and at the warmth of his wife’s hand on his shoulder, swallowed the harsh retort which had sprung to his tongue.

“Well, at least goats aren’t noisy, unlike that grandpa’s parrot”, Mrs Jones joked.

Just then, screeching and squawking noises came from the car boot. All colour drained from Mr. Jones’ face.

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word count: 175 words. The above story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge, where each week, we are provided with a picture and are to write a 75-175 word story in it.Thank you @majesticgoldenrose for providing us with this week’s photo. 

Flash Fiction: what happened?!

We queued towards the Egypt Air terminal, the air hostess’ voice hovering in the atmosphere, signifying the commencement of boarding for flight E365. Within seconds it seemed, suitcases crashed to the ground, and everyone headed towards one direction- the exit.

The counter clerks were a sight; trying to climb their way over counter tables but their skirts weren’t making it easy an easy task, which thinking back now, made for a funny sight.
We all ran, pushing, scratching and wanting to beat whoever or whatever it was making us run. It wasn’t until we were safely at a distance and out of breath that the question- “what happened?” arose, everyone looking at one another in a quizzical manner.

Long hours of interview and investigation by airport officials eventually revealed the source of the drama. A young lad, whose phone ringtone happened to be “gunshots”, rang incredible loudly and we were the chain reaction that followed. And the man who began it all, he was also amongst the panicked not knowing he was the source.

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word count: 174 words. This is in response to flash fiction for aspiring writers photo Prompt challenge. Unfortunately, due to a horrible internet connection and busy exam schedules, I wasn’t able to make it in time to link my story for last week’s challenge. The internet just got back today, so since I had already written, I thought I’d share the story regardless. 🙂 Thank you very much @Dawn Miller for this week’s photo.

Flash Fiction: Dodged a bullet

She sat at the edge of the cliff with her legs, dangling 650 ft above ground. The scorching sun, masking the fact that Autumn was here, at least it should have been; just like many aspects of her life.

Jamila had the greatest shock when she found out, the man she was getting married to, someone she trusted with her loved ones, her son, was in fact a con, arriving Algeria only because of its no extradition law.

She took a deep breath in an effort to absorb the nature around her, anything to distract her mind. Droplets of water settled on her forehead and she gazed towards the sky.
But it’s supposed to be Autumn, she sighed.

The showers turned into a lot more and within a few minutes, Jamila couldn’t distinguish between the water from the sky and those from her eyes.
I needed that, she smiled, soaking in the rain and for the first time since the incident, grateful to God for having dodged a bullet.

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word count: 168. This story is in response to Flash Fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge. Each week, we are provided a picture to write a 75-175 word story. Thank you Grant-Sud for providing us with this week’s photo. 

Day 19: Family…

She’d wake me-
in the middle of the sleep,
With a smack,
Girl! Draw your skirt down;
Don’t you know,
We are not the only ones,
On this land,
You, cover those thighs.

It maybe dark,
But it don’t mean “they” can’t see us.
And that was my mother…

I’d wake her-
In the middle of the night,
She’d groan,
Go meet your father.
My stomach’s growling-
“Mama, I really am sick”
Go meet your father!

She’s spent her fair share
Of waking in the night, she’d say-
When I was a baby.
It’s his turn now,
To live the joys of fatherhood;
And that was my mother.

She raises six kids,
Singlehandeldy in the day,
So night is all hers.
She makes up rules which
Only she’s allowed to break,
Yet, we still love her.

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Day 19: Family (December Poetry Challenge). This is the 3rd poem I’ve written regarding this prompt. The first two just seemed too mushy, and in a way unbelievable, it felt like the family I depicted was perfect and we all know that’s far from reality. I’m having an exam tomorrow so it was fun to write something a bit lighthearted for a change.

Flash Fiction: cool or creepy?

Every other Saturday, Jianna and Rosy took a break from their busy school schedules and visited the neighbourhood park, playing their favourite pass-time, “cool or creepy”.

Rosy claimed, she had a gift of knowing people. She’d once read in a book that identical twins were born with supernatural gifts and had been obsessed with the idea ever since, firmly believing hers to be the gift to Judge a person at first sight. Jianna thought it to be nothing but a house wives tale, still, she indulged her twin sister

“So, what do you think about that guy there with the blue on blue?” Jianna asked
“Him? Definitely creepy”, Rosy replied casually.
Jianna took a good long look at the man and concluded, Rosy was just a weird person.

At night, in the comfort of her dormitory, Jianna turned on the radio to hear an alert about a man who had kidnapped a girl from the park. The only thing to identify him, he wore a blue shirt with a blue cap.

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Word count: 171. The above story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge. Each week, a picture is given and we are to write a story of 75-175 words only. Thank you very much @The storyteller’s abode for this week’s photo.

Flash Fiction: Survived

Sleep was supposed to be an escape for the soul, but not for Anita. Not after March 25th, the night she found herself victim to an eccentric looking man with green eyes who although immune to emotions, was a master of facade; a man who’d cut short the lives of seven innocent girls before her… She should have been number eight.

Anita had tried everything, therapy, meditation, you name it but still, each time she shut her eyes, the memories come gushing in blurry flashbacks with only one clear cut frame amidst the chaos- A red chandelier. Shutting her eyes, took her back to that moment, when she’d stare at the chandelier, the only thing with color in her hunter’s den, trying to gate the pain and fear off.

But she’d survived then and would survive facing him in court the next day, with or without sleep on her side. She was ready.

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Word count: 160. The above story is in response to a Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge hosted by priceless Joy. Thank you @TJ Paris for this week’s picture. 

B- Badmus Family (a Ballad)

There lived a family down the road,
Where the badmus’ lived with their cat and dog;
Each morning the mister waved Goodbye,
To his darling wife with a peck on each side.

Mr Badmus was a funny looking man,
Sickly thin and barely- five feet high,
The Mrs in contrast was plump and carried,
A few extra pounds, around her thighs.

They lived in the biggest mansion on the street,
And rode in a Bentley, while we watched in envy;
The Mrs adorned in the newest of fashion,
With her Mr at hand, as her greatest passion.

We watched and waited till we tired of waiting,
For disaster to befall their perfect family,
Engulfed in our envy, we failed to see,
The sorrow in their eyes, at the sight of our kids.

For, they had the wealth and they had the love,
But not the offspring they so longed for.
And they had accepted, they couldn’t have everything,
While we held onto ours and thirsted for theirs.

Yet the Mrs smiled, each time she caught our stares,
And the Mr walked like he hadn’t any care;
We thought him snobby, but he was only a man,
Who’d give the wealth all up for a child to care

the above image is courtesy of Examiner.com

Flash Fiction: Battle of Wills

Two decades ago, photo centre was the multi purpose hall of Gracia Town. On weekdays, it served as a photo studio. During the weekends, it was used for religious gatherings and at night, it was the IT club for the youth of the town. I remember mama’s message loud and clear, even my shadow was not to fall near Photo centre at night.
Try as much as the elders did to stop the youth from sinning in their religious place, it was all in vain. The youths were as stubborn as the elders were.

After a series of dialogue, the youths deliberated to fight the elders. One look at youth’s able bodies and the elders’ frail one, the mayor decided to end things. Photo centre’s door was locked down, never to be opened again.

Today, photo centre stands with its two strong pillars- a musty smelling, paint fading vacant space which serves as a historical reminder of the fight which almost broke out between the youths and the elders of Gracia town.

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word count: 172 words. This story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge hosted by Priceless Joy. Each week, an image is provided and we write a 75-175 word story on it. Thank you Uday for this week’s image.