i’ll need to reread it too- for my own sake. i know it needs a rewrite. and i have a newer version- just haven’t posted it yet.
Flash Fiction / Connect-the-Dots Mom
Connect-the-Dots Mom
She was a good wife, a good mother, a good sister. What she was bad at was life. It had never been particularly good to her. She felt it was all a lie, the marriage, the kids, the life she had to live to please everybody except herself. She got lost in the equation. No one seemed to notice. They were being taken care of- very well mind you- by her. Yet no one took care of her except for half a day on Mother’s Day- and even then she had a mess to clean up, or dinner to cook. It never stopped. The kids got sick, had to go to practice, or school, or somewhere. The husband wanted the house clean and dinner on the table and the remote in his hand after dinner when she had to clean up, bathe the kids, read to them and put them to bed, and then possibly be ready to give it to him even if she didn’t want to. Her life was not hers any more. It was all a lie. She got used to the feeling of lies churning in her stomach like she was pulling salt water taffy end over end- folding them over and over, and watching them grow longer, stickier, heavier into a soft candy that hung like a glistening white sheet over her arms, and body. She felt she was disappearing underneath it all.
No one else seemed to notice. She met an old friend on the street, and she stopped to say hello. The friend said that she’d call next Saturday, and she knew it was a lie. But she smiled any way. Saturday came and went and the friend never called. She lied to herself and said it didn’t matter. Still, she thought about it all day, all week, and all month. When she told herself she didn’t care, she knew it was a lie; it was a truth she didn’t care to face. In her weakness- the lies were easier. The truth was an archeological fact she had to dig at- and she had no muscle, no implements. She stopped caring.
In the beginning the lies were easier and soft like peanut butter, but after years of trying to swallow them, they tended to stick in her craw, and they rubbed her the wrong way like the taffy. The lies began to build up. She could feel it. She started feeling sick to her stomach.
Lies were a drug. They were the mother’s little helper that she swallowed everyday to get through it all. She once believed in Cinderella, but her whole damn life had come undone. It was becoming like an outline, a tracing on paper. The edges started erasing themselves. Her life was becoming an annoyance, a piece of candy stuck between the teeth in the back of her mouth. She stopped brushing.
She woke up one day looking at her hands. The wrinkles were fading. She washed her face in the mirror. She saw no freckles. The mole she once had was gone. Later in the day around lunch, she thought she saw through her skin when she fed the baby.
When her son came home from school he said, “Mom. You look like a connect- the-dots picture.” He grabbed his bat and an apple and ran outside, laughing, “See you later.”
At dinner she tried to pick up the iron pot to cook the steaks in, and she couldn’t do it. Her hand passed through the handle. The baby cried, “Mama,” and she couldn’t comfort her. There was nothing left.
When her husband came home from work, he started screaming for her, “Honey, where are you?” He found her in a corner of the kitchen with the baby pounding her fists through her thighs like she was playing patty-cake. Her son grasped at her neck, calling out, “Mom! What’s happening?” He turned to his father, his eyes wide with fear, “Dad, what’s happening?”
He pulled the kids away. “What are you doing? Why do you let yourself get so worked up?” he asked her fading face.
She tried to say something, and the words came out like a TV on the blink, “I…I…I…can’t…help…it!”
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Lillie_M reviewed Version 1 -
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This actually felt more like a journal piece that a piece of flash fiction. But either way it was a very accomplished piece of work.
I felt you captured a real character and managed to describe her emotions in a way we could all relate to. I felt both empathy and respect for the character and what she was going through.
The ending seemed to fit the piece in that there was no way you could’ve explained what was going on and what you said made sense.
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Ajax_Skreitzche reviewed Version 1 -
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like it.
interesting perceptions.
not cheery, but definitive.
good feel, good tone, bad tempo.
break up the first paragraph.
when she feels or thinks something, remove the narration and have it be dialogue.
im most instances, remove the word ‘when’. you need to cut back on the use of ‘like’ and/or ‘as’. in other instances, you need to change the places its being used and shift them to another. this will be more obvious if the first suggestion about using dialogue is applied.
i would be glad to show you what i mean, privately.
if you should be so inclined, send me a note and ill oblige.
peace
snarfus reviewed Version 1 -
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ladlamlag reviewed Version 1 -
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Good piece. It’s relatable and interesting. The basics are there…characters and a reason to keep reading. And scenes. There’s conflict and resolution, but it’s too light. I know this is flash fiction (a genre to which I’m new), so certain “traditional” elements are unnecessary. But the resolution (and the events leading up to it) are not crystallize. I have to squint to get it, to visualize it.
Matthewtuckey reviewed Version 1 -
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“all a lie:”- a colon here would help indicate that what follows is an explanation.
I like the taffy reference, although I had to Wiki it- I’d never heard of the product.
The issue of the friend lying could be made more succinct by jumping to Sunday morning to explain she hadn’t come. You kind of tell us the same info twice.
You describe this woman’s life in numerous metaphors and similes. Eventually I feel like this holds up the story- flash fiction should be spontaneous and fast moving!
The ending is downbeat and appropriate- looks like a full nervous breakdown. The problem is that if someone gets stressed out, inevitably they will crack. Your story followed that pattern. It didn’t twist at all and surprise me. If you want to keep the plot the same, have her do something weird. My mum threw eggs all over the house one time, after an argument with my dad. Apparently. Before I was born.
GreenIguana reviewed Version 1 -
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The best line was the truth being “an archaelogical fact.”
The story had a good basic premise; the idea of lies diminishing oneself. However I think you should drop the science fiction aspect. Come up with a different consequence, one based in reality. I also didn’t like the food metaphors. Taffy and peanut butter taste good and furthermore, are quite substantial. They don’t really fit with the picture you are painting here.
Fenvy reviewed Version 1 -
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Your melancholic tone along with the descriptions kept me reading. Her routine drew me in deeper and deeper with the mother’s anxiety/stress. It was pretty unique the way you had the mother disappear. I kept thinking to myself that if they’d trace her back together or something something would change at the end. I understand what you mean about living the lie of the happy housewife. Any way you look at it, a lie is a life half lived and spelled. I’m still not sure if lie is the right word to describe her empty repetitious life. There was a point that I actually thought she was getting a second chance (getting younger), but to my surprise was only disappearing because in her family’s eyes, she was literally the invisible force that kept everything together. Why should she be present when she’s not really there? Cheesy I know, but great piece of work.
clb_clark reviewed Version 1 -
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I think this is an excellent piece of work. You have a very good style of writing.
I enjoyed the salt water taffy simile. I thought it fit well with the story.
I can’t really think of any criticism. This is a prime example of flash fiction. I would say just keep on with what your doing.
I’m looking forward to more.
wisedec4u reviewed Version 1 -
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I thought this was good story with the potential to be better. There was a good build up and could feel the mother fustruation, however the ending fell a little flat and left more questions than answers, like why is she fading into nothingness. Perhaps, that was your intention and if so, then bravo. All in all, I liked it. Good job.
squarehopper reviewed Version 1 -
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The idea is interesting and somewhat clever but the execution needs to be worked on.
This is mostly telling – the simple stating of facts – which is an acceptable style but with a story like this one – it is not the right choice. You should show us more – that is give us the details and depth of the character and situation through action, reaction, interaction, and dialog. The reason this method/style would work better is that it would force your reader to connect to the main character more in regards to emotional and understanding.
Another problem with telling is that it usually causes your prose to be passive and slow. This proved to be the case in your piece. It was hard for me as the reader to continue reading as many times I found myself losing interest in what was happening. The Active showing will solve this issue for you.
Good luck!
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