Steamed Broccoli

Reads: 148  | Likes: 2  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 2

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic

Please leave feedback, I'm trying to enter this into a competition and I would like to know what to improve.


I finish steaming the broccoli, my mom stands beside me making homemade gravy; she always used to make the best meals. Food has finished, the meal looks colourful and everything is set out nicely on the table, my mom has made most of it but the only thing she talks about is how good the broccoli is. “This is perfect,” she says as she takes another bite, I laugh it off and tell her all I did was steam it. My brother starts to throw small pieces of bread at my sister, they both laugh and my dad tells them not to play with their food. His voice booms, my mom always used to talk about how he should’ve been a public speaker- but he has always loved his job as an accountant. The clock ticks in the background, I take a bite of my mom’s mashed potatoes, they taste like nothing. I add a bit of gravy to them to give them flavour. My mom start’s to talk about how busy she’s going to be tomorrow and how she has mounds of work to do; It’s the same conversation as yesterday. The clock ticks louder, she turns back to my dad and they start discussing the car payments again, there always seems to be something wrong with the car. My mom looks at the clock and turns to me, “Sweetheart go and take your pills” she says quickly before turning back to my dad. I get up and grab a glass in the kitchen and head to the bathroom. The radiant energy from the dining room and my family’s voices drift down the hallway, I look in the mirror and see how much I’ve broken out, I quickly pop a zit and a small drop of blood oozes out with the puss- I wipe it away and open the medicine cabinet, I grab my pills and quickly take them, I feel them rush them down my throat and all I can hear is the clock ticking. The smell of broccoli lingers in the house. I walk back to the table and pull out the chair slowly. I sit down and look around, my eyes then drift down, and I look down at the rotting pot of broccoli. My family wasn't here, they never were,

 

because I murdered them 8 years ago.

 



Submitted: November 30, 2020

© Copyright 2021 Lilly Pinewood. All rights reserved.

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Comments

Black Dog

Good job, I really liked it and, I think the way you wrote this was very creative which made it a fun read for me.

Thu, December 3rd, 2020 10:29am

Luna Moonlight

Very creative, I enjoyed reading! Keep up the good work!

Tue, December 29th, 2020 4:05am

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