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What Goes Around May Bloom

Short story By: Tom Miller
Flash fiction



A demon dialing boss, a tenacious daughter, a void filling role in life. A story about a good mother.


Submitted:Jan 28, 2014    Reads: 15    Comments: 1    Likes: 1   


The phone rings. I cringe. It rings, and it rings some more. I glance towards the source. My cell phone is located on the table, it continues until my voice-mail picks up. The caller hangs up, then promptly calls back. Over and over. Over, AND over-again! I feel my IQ points falling away like breadcrumbs, it's harder to think. The same result obtained by playing music in department stores. The buyer gets beat down so poor decisions are made. A dirty trick. She is no better. My demeanor crunches further flattening down. Shoulders tighten up and I want to flee. I cower away. The bully on the other end of that ring is tenacious. It vibrates. Another text. The motion travels down the legs into the floor. My cat I stare at, refusing to pick it up. Knowing. The psychotic freak that I call my boss. My job is more than a position. I am her slave, but its ok her actions are justified. It's a lie, a lie I tell myself. I fight my hands to stop shaking. The line between home and work had vanished. A persistent boss, completely inept, needy, constantly fears being alone. A person too afraid to make a decision, she can't even answer her own business emails. I'm good at my job though, I fill a void. It takes its toll. Years pass, I grow older. My daughter calls. She needs something, everything. The one thing children must have. I taught her all I know. I provided for her, raised her and sent her on her own. I have nothing left to give, but it must continue. She is young and inept, needy, fears being alone. Growing up herself, unable to fill out school forms. Again and again she calls, the new college student. She is tenacious for answers, persistent for wisdom. I fill the void in her the best I can. It is my job as a mother and I am good at it. Years pass some more. I'm even older. The phone rings constantly, day after day. A grown daughter with a family of her own. A baby, a new mother. She is completely inept, needy, constantly feels alone. I give advice, and the dance begins again. This continues further out into the distance, far into the fields of time. This is where I feel the weight of it all. The relentless calling, the never ending buzz. My time passes by. Aging steadily. Years upon years have passed. I fell alone, afraid, and inept in handling my last days. I stare at my phone on the table wondering what to do. Its silence is loud, makes it hard to think. I feel numbers counting down. Panic. I decide to call my daughter. Possibly the favor will be returned. Maybe she will fill the void, maybe I won't be alone, inept or afraid. Perhaps I will make the right decision before my body dies.




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