My ideas bank was empty, until a poem I wrote thirty-odd years ago came to mind. This story is a prose version.
FROTHY COFFEE
In the
coffee bars of my youth we used to put the world to rights.
In our
virtual reality no-one went hungry, because fertile nations grew enough food
for everyone. Racism was a thing of the past in a world where all skin was cafė-au-lait. Democracy worked,
politicians were honest, population was steady and disease controlled. War was
banished – there was never, we agreed, a valid reason to take another’s life.
Sitting
over spaghetti and frothy coffee, I believed in all this passionately – until I
became a mother. Now, if
anyone harmed my child, he wouldn’t live to see another sunrise.
........................................
And here is the original poem -
KILLING
In coffee
bars
twenty years
ago
we talked
endlessly
about the
morality
of killing
–
There was
never
we said
a good
reason
to take
another’s life.
But now,
if anyone
touched my child
or did to
him
any of
the unspeakable things
people do
to people
these days,
I would
kill them myself
with these
hands
only one
killing
wouldn’t
be enough.
--------------------------------------------
So there you have it - two for the price of one! Please leave a comment before visiting the other writers of flash fiction by following the link from Rochelle's blog.
Dear Liz,
ReplyDeleteAll I can say is 'amen' and ever so well done.
Shalom,
Rochelle
Thanks Rochelle - though it wasn't really a story this week!
DeleteA brilliant sentiment, Liz!
ReplyDeleteThanks Sally - I take it you agree?
DeleteI think that we all would change in such an event... (still we have to try, don't we)
ReplyDeleteTry to understand the other person's point of view? In some circumstances, yes, but not all.
DeleteLove that poem!
ReplyDeleteThank you Robert - it still resounds with me after thirty years.
DeleteI loved both pieces. And so very true.
ReplyDeleteThanks Sandra X
DeleteHa - yes, Liz. We don't recognise ourselves once we become the protector. Great writing. :)
ReplyDeletemarion
I remember worrying after my third child was born that I wouldn't have enough hands to rescue them all from a fire. Parenting is fraught with anxieties.
DeleteWow, Liz - you've managed to convey so much in so few words - excellent!
ReplyDeleteHi Susan - as a loyal reader of my blog you will know how long it's taken me to hone my flash fiction skills. And I'm still working on them, of course!
ReplyDeleteit seems that self-interest overrules everything else. :)
ReplyDeleteSelf interest?
DeleteAs a mother...yes..absolutely.
ReplyDeleteThis is brilliant. I love the sentiments, and I can relate 100%.
ReplyDeletethanks Margirene - it's astonishing how the arrival of one new human being changes ones perspective.
DeleteLiz,
ReplyDeleteThis prose and the original poem are SO true. I agree completely and really needed to read this.
Anne from AnneHiga.com
Thank you Anne, and thanks for commenting.
DeleteI enjoyed both the flash and the poem, Liz. Words are just black squiggles, but can say so much. You leave us with a lot to think about.
ReplyDeleteEspecially the mothers amongst us - thanks Helen.
DeleteI enjoyed both the flash and the poem, Liz. Words are just black squiggles, but can say so much. You leave us with a lot to think about.
ReplyDeleteThis is great, both, poem and story. I live in that world from time to time with my thoughts--and in such a world no one would harm a child. But people being people...
ReplyDeleteIn a perfect world no-one would deliberately hurt another person, chaild or adult.
Delete