My friend, started a site: An Open Apology. Anyone is invited to write and submit a letter. It could be to your ex, your boss, your mom, or even your pet. And…..It can be stone cold serious or full of humor. Whatever helps you get the words out…….
Without further ado, here is the apology letter I submitted.
(RED: Thanks for reading this first and reassuring me that I’m not quite the piece of crap I thought I might be. Well…..not in this instance anyway.)
Although these words will never meet your ears, I’m apologizing anyway. You are and will always be protected by what I felt that day, in that moment. After all, I’m a mother. I’m your mother. It’s my job to protect you.
Admitting something I’m deeply ashamed of isn’t easy. Even your father doesn’t know this. How could I tell him? He didn’t share my feeling. He didn’t share my fear. I didn’t want to look less in his eyes or risk losing a piece of his heart. But, this isn’t about him. It’s about you and me.
TO READ THE REST, GO TO: Mom Apologizes to Son with Down’s Syndrome
Need some motivation to get your pitiful, sorry, “I should be dead for what I did to you”, thoughts out?
Okay…This is more about not accepting the apology, but a good song I had to throw in. And you know…..They might not accept it. A chance you have to take sometimes.
Now go apologize at An Open Apology. You know you screwed up! Go make it right.
This is the future, but also right now.
You aren’t welcome back, no way, no how.
No open arms and no open doors.
It’s clear to all, if it wasn’t before.
You are damaged and toxic, with no moral code.
Picking on children at your age. How bold!
We understand your life sucks pretty hard.
But that’s your fault, so don’t throw crap in our yard.
Haters hate and you are no exception.
I’m pretty sure it started at your conception.
If you’re still in the dark, let me turn on the light.
Without you around, the future is bright.
(Word to your mother…..)
I’m sorry to overwhelm you with my incessant flashing, but I wrote these a bit back and never posted. Get comfy and prepare yourself to be entertained or bored to death. Either way, you might be at your computer longer than expected. These were submitted to the M3 Flash Challenge (Flash in the Pan) Winter 2012.
Wake (125) Exact word Count
Snapping out of his drunken daze for a brief moment, Jeremy noticed the cold beer in front of him at the bar. Usually the cap is the only thing off, but this bottle had a note attached. Focusing the best he could, Jeremy read the message.
Drinking is only a temporary feeling and solution, but when there ain’t no solution, temporary ain’t a bad way to go.
He realized he’d spent years, night after night, sharing his life with a bottle. As he looked around the bar, he saw others just like him. Realizing the solution to his problems didn’t live inside a bottle, he did the only thing he could. He raised his bottle and slurred cheers in the wake of his temporary solution.
Flash (100) 87 Words
Here again, I lie in the charcoal-colored night, approaching my once again deep sleep. Yet, this night is unlike all the others. My dreams will be replaced with memories. Visions that I could not recollect under any other circumstances flash by me.
My morning? Oh, please let us not forget my great awakening. Instead, those too will be replaced — replaced with a wake and mourning. How alike those words sound, yet their meanings are entirely different.
At least I don’t have to worry about insomnia anymore.
Dance (50) Exact Word Count
Much time has passed since my eternal slumber began. My body is frozen to the core as I listen to the thumping through the wood. My earthly blanket is covering me. Yet I feel no warmth. My departure is final now. There’s no turning back. I’ve had my last dance.
Fish (100) Exact
When I was young, maybe ‘bout nine, I ‘member that ole swing Daddy built an’ swingin’ to high heaven. On that swing, I found myself thinkin’ ‘bout important things. At home the only things I’d be thinkin’ of were frogs, county fairs, Momma’s apple pie and Joey Crawood. Joey was some weird, freckled-faced kid, who smelled like fish. He also used to put mud in girls’ hair. Meggie, my best friend, said Joey put more mud in my hair on account of him liking me. It was that or ‘cause he liked the way the mud clung to my braids.
Fire (125) I used 120
The side door of the van flew open and there was Rain. I figured she was around my age, but I couldn’t quite tell. Her clothes were simple; t-shirt and jeans, and she wore lots of makeup. You could tell she was a plain girl, who in all cruelty would be lucky to be considered homely. Her figure? She had none. She was as straight as an arrow, all arms and legs, her eyes a pale icy-blue. The dark mascara and liner around her eyes made their color even more stunning. And her corn-colored hair danced in the wind. Well actually, it really didn’t dance. It sort of resembled the aftermath of a brush fire, but it had its charm.
I met my best friend while putting out a fire, or so I thought. Smoke was coming from my neighbor’s cellar. I ran over and felt the door. It wasn’t hot, so I figured I could handle it and be a hero. Their hose was nearby. I went over, turned it on, threw the door open and wildly sprayed that water.
“What the hell!” someone shouted.
I never saw that girl sitting on the steps. There she was though, hair stuck to her face, mascara running and a broken-wet cigarette dangling from her mouth. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Something funny?” she yelled.
“Aren’t you a little young…” I started to say.
“I’m twelve, thank you!” she said angrily while moving the hair out of her eyes. “My name’s Happiness too. If you got something to say about that, I’ll kick your ass.”
“No.” I smiled. “I think we’re good.”
This was inspired by: M3 Flash Challenge
Word Limit: 150
My word count: 150
That day will stay in my brain forever. I was outside in the yard helping mom with the garden. I heard this loud backfire, like a gun or something. It made me jump. Then a crazy looking hippy-van pulled up next door. Smoke was coming from the hood and there was music loud enough to wake the dead.
I remember stories I’d heard about strange people coming to small, lonely towns like mine, and the horrible things they’d do. Nothing exciting ever happens here. Death happens, but never by murder. It’s caused by old age or some type of farm accident. You know, like being stabbed with a pitchfork or getting shredded by a plow machine. I just figured those folks must be lost. As I ran to peer over the gate between our two yards, I crossed my fingers and prayed a kid would come out of that van.
This post was inspired by: M3 Flash Challenge
The word is: LONELY with 150 word count
My word count is: 150
Since I’m doing such a great job on this blog: writing daily posts, reading and commenting in a timely manner, visiting and commenting on other blogs regularly, selling ice to the Eskimos, selling electric blankets to Satan……..I’ve decided to create a new blog.
It’s going to be hard to believe, but I love posting pics of my son on Facebook. I’m just one of those moms, except sarcastic, humorous captions always follow. I also like to create mini-stories with his pics. So……..A friend of mine suggested I take it out of the FB world and create a blog. I think she just didn’t want to see that crap anymore, but whateverthefuck.
Here it is:
After leaving his family, Charlie came home to only a note.
Thanks for getting milk. It would’ve been nice if you brought it back before you left. Don’t worry about the kids or feel guilty. They only cry for you every night. Michael’s therapy is coming along. The shrink says he might be able to drink milk again. Thanks for giving our son a milk phobia.
In all sincerity. I understand the need to find yourself, because the guy who lived here was worthless. I do hope your journey brought you many things, since the things you left, have been burned. Your book is sitting in the toilet though. Apparently, it’s not good enough to burn.
Love ya to lots of little pieces,
This post was inspired by: M3 Flash Fiction Challenge. The word is book, with a word limit of 125. My count is 125 words.