Warning: This one is a bit on the dark side. Give it a miss if you need something positive and cheery.
Time stopped! I never reached the floor. My soul left my body in mid-air as my heart gave out sailing over broken cocaine mirrors and the remains of vodka bottles.
Like King Kong juice, the combination of these amplified my father’s perceived strength. I would forever remain flying across the attic where he strangled me. Between my lack of breath and the force-fed drugs that he thought would make this a special daddy-daughter bonding experience, my number was called.
My physical body did make the journey to the wall on the other side, but my ghost wouldn’t follow. Now I was trying to reconcile my seventeen years of this life and figure out what my purpose had been.
As I understood it, I could only die once I had learned the lessons of this lifetime and fulfilled what it was that I had come to do. These weren’t clear. Perhaps I was one of those unusual circumstances that had died outside of her planned timeline. Is that a thing? A sudden and surprise end?
But no, destiny is planned and mapped out. What of free will? Did I have it? Did it make a difference? Could I have changed things or was it always planned for me to have a short life?
I don’t think I was old enough to really absorb any teachings for my soul, other than to make better choices when choosing parents for my next incarnation. Hopefully I’d get a long break before I had to make that decision.
And then I saw it. Maybe I hadn’t learned anything, but I’d been a teacher.
My father was arrested. Not because he confessed or changed his ways, but because my mother no longer stayed silent. She was no longer his accomplice. My ghost could go to rest.
by Debbie Gravett © 2021.02.07
FFFC: Flash Fiction Challenge #103
Image by Tim Grundtner at Pexels.com