@aliciamorales38 Alicia Morales Ugly hugs onto her frail frame. Her eyes fall to the cold cement, home for the night. # twitteritive 30 Jan via LG Phone Favorite Reply Delete Tweets from @aliciamorales38
The Prologue
My twitterive is inspired by the tweet posted above and also through my micro-fiction previously written. It was hard for me to think of just one place that held strong importance for me so I decided to make up my own story. This story is based on a mother who tries to give her daughter Sarah a better life then the one she lives. Her husband, Sarah's father, physically abuses her and she needs to get out before he gets sick of her and moves on to abuse her young child. The home they once lived in is drastically changed for the girls because they are forced to get out of their house. The mother is now set to live on the streets of New York and Sarah is placed in foster care. I did not realize that this one tweet would go anywhere...but it ended up helping me write my micro-fiction and then my twitterive. I know the twitterive is a bit drastic and soap opera like but I was aiming for that. Sometimes it is fun to read something dramatic and exaggerated. Makes you feel better about the boring life you live.
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Dear Diary,
I miss the nights when I could kiss her goodnight, rub her back and read her bed time stories of happily ever after. I wish our lives could still be that simple. But that was then and this is now. Oh diary, you are the only one I have to share my thoughts with. Not the typical diary bonded with sheets of boarded flower paper, and a key to lock it up at night. You represent the life I live now. I write to you on what I can find, napkins, scraps from the trash, anything. It feels good to write. To remember how my life used to be and hopefully will be again soon. Well room is running out on here. I will write later when I find more “paper.”
I miss the nights when I could kiss her goodnight, rub her back and read her bed time stories of happily ever after. I wish our lives could still be that simple. But that was then and this is now. Oh diary, you are the only one I have to share my thoughts with. Not the typical diary bonded with sheets of boarded flower paper, and a key to lock it up at night. You represent the life I live now. I write to you on what I can find, napkins, scraps from the trash, anything. It feels good to write. To remember how my life used to be and hopefully will be again soon. Well room is running out on here. I will write later when I find more “paper.”
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Conversation between Husband and Wife –
Husband (Ray): Do you think I am that dumb! Where do you go every day after work I know you are done hours before your ass ends up back home in this shit hole. Can’t find time to clean? Is your life that hard, that busy you can’t pick up a goddamn mop? You’re a worthless piece of shit.
He shoves her into the refrigerator as their daughter watches tv. Keeping her eyes away from her parents.
Wife (Rene): Not here baby not in front of Sarah, lets go outside and talk. Can we please come on.
She reaches for his hand as he smacks it away.
Husband (Ray): She should see this. Learn from your freaking mistake. Sarah! Look over here! You see you better be a better wife then your mama you hear me. Show her husband some respect or he will show you.
He hits his wife across the face as the daughter watches.
Wife (Rene): Please not in front of her. She shouldn’t see this. Just wait for me outside, I will be right out and we will talk. Let me put her upstairs to bed. Please, I will be right there. I promise.
He grunts grabs another cold beer and waits outside.
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Conversation between Mother and Daughter –
Mother (Rene): Come on baby we are getting out of here.
She rushes her little girl upstairs to her room.
Daughter (Sarah): Mama where are we going?
Mother (Rene): I’ll explain later we have to be fast. Grab your favorite stuffed animal and one book, that is all you get hunny so make sure they are your favorite.
She does what her mama says and sticks them into the bag on her bed. Her mother runs around the room throwing clothes in the bag. And bundles her daughter in her jacket, mittens and hat, and rushes down the stairs hand in hand. They slip out the back door and run to the next block and jump on the next subway.
Husband (Ray): Do you think I am that dumb! Where do you go every day after work I know you are done hours before your ass ends up back home in this shit hole. Can’t find time to clean? Is your life that hard, that busy you can’t pick up a goddamn mop? You’re a worthless piece of shit.
He shoves her into the refrigerator as their daughter watches tv. Keeping her eyes away from her parents.
Wife (Rene): Not here baby not in front of Sarah, lets go outside and talk. Can we please come on.
She reaches for his hand as he smacks it away.
Husband (Ray): She should see this. Learn from your freaking mistake. Sarah! Look over here! You see you better be a better wife then your mama you hear me. Show her husband some respect or he will show you.
He hits his wife across the face as the daughter watches.
Wife (Rene): Please not in front of her. She shouldn’t see this. Just wait for me outside, I will be right out and we will talk. Let me put her upstairs to bed. Please, I will be right there. I promise.
He grunts grabs another cold beer and waits outside.
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Conversation between Mother and Daughter –
Mother (Rene): Come on baby we are getting out of here.
She rushes her little girl upstairs to her room.
Daughter (Sarah): Mama where are we going?
Mother (Rene): I’ll explain later we have to be fast. Grab your favorite stuffed animal and one book, that is all you get hunny so make sure they are your favorite.
She does what her mama says and sticks them into the bag on her bed. Her mother runs around the room throwing clothes in the bag. And bundles her daughter in her jacket, mittens and hat, and rushes down the stairs hand in hand. They slip out the back door and run to the next block and jump on the next subway.
Thoughts by mother (Rene) –
Okay I have her. She is mine. She is safe. How can he do that? How can he hit me in front of her? Well no more. Done. Over. The abuse is going to end. Where should we go? What if he follows us? Oh Lord please, Oh God please help me. What should I do? His life isn’t worth living. He needs to go away disappear from here. I will make it happen.
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Okay I have her. She is mine. She is safe. How can he do that? How can he hit me in front of her? Well no more. Done. Over. The abuse is going to end. Where should we go? What if he follows us? Oh Lord please, Oh God please help me. What should I do? His life isn’t worth living. He needs to go away disappear from here. I will make it happen.
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Micro Fiction-
The city streets welcome the homeless with thrown out garbage to feast on, obscene rats for night’s company and strangers’ eyes to show pity or disgust as you sleep.
Ugly hugs onto her frail frame. Her eyes fall to the cold cement as she lets out a sigh, “Home for the night.” She looks wearily around to memorize her surroundings, but most of all to see who is watching. The rank smell of garbage and unwashed clothes stings her nose as she curls up next to an overflowing trash can.
Her bruises have healed, her black eye is no longer visible but she feels the pain. She hears the screams. She sees the anger in his eyes. His fists clench up, red with fierce strength. The flashbacks of her husband’s brutal beatings still hold truth in her heart.
It is morning and the sun reflects off of the snow awakening her sleep. My baby. She plows through the trash with her nicked up fingers and finds a piece of an old mirror. Glancing at her reflection she quickly throws her hair back in a ponytail, grabs her Jansport bag which holds her pictures, and runs down to P.S 92 and waits. She stands proudly in the mix of elementary school students, teachers, parents, and nannies. Sarah. Their eyes lock simultaneously as the grace each other with a hug. “I knew you would come Mama,” the little girl buries her face into her mother’s wrenched jacket and sobs.
The two walk to an empty bench and sit. “You listen to me Sarah. One day baby, one day we are going to be together again. I promise. Be good to your foster parents.” The school bell rings and the two say their goodbyes. “Tomorrow baby, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
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Dear Diary,
My life has turned upside down within the last year. Living on the streets of New York is hard and dangerous. I would have never thought it would come to this. My Sarah, my one and only daughter and I can no longer be together. I gave her away to the foster parents she has been living with. They are good wholesome people, who love and care about her. I go to the school yard each and every day to see her. I tell her that it is a secret. No one can know I say to her and she nods her head. She is to young to hold such a secret but she knows her mama loves her and this is the only way we can see one another. If her adoptive parents found out they will go right to the police I know it. But diary, I had to do it. I couldn't have him looking for us, looking for her. He needed to vanish from our lives and killing him was the only way I would know my baby was safe. I need to get my life back on track. I need to get off of the streets. Oh I hate hiding every day. This is my home for now. I need to stay here so I can see her. She is still my daughter, I don't care what those papers say.
The city streets welcome the homeless with thrown out garbage to feast on, obscene rats for night’s company and strangers’ eyes to show pity or disgust as you sleep.
Ugly hugs onto her frail frame. Her eyes fall to the cold cement as she lets out a sigh, “Home for the night.” She looks wearily around to memorize her surroundings, but most of all to see who is watching. The rank smell of garbage and unwashed clothes stings her nose as she curls up next to an overflowing trash can.
Her bruises have healed, her black eye is no longer visible but she feels the pain. She hears the screams. She sees the anger in his eyes. His fists clench up, red with fierce strength. The flashbacks of her husband’s brutal beatings still hold truth in her heart.
It is morning and the sun reflects off of the snow awakening her sleep. My baby. She plows through the trash with her nicked up fingers and finds a piece of an old mirror. Glancing at her reflection she quickly throws her hair back in a ponytail, grabs her Jansport bag which holds her pictures, and runs down to P.S 92 and waits. She stands proudly in the mix of elementary school students, teachers, parents, and nannies. Sarah. Their eyes lock simultaneously as the grace each other with a hug. “I knew you would come Mama,” the little girl buries her face into her mother’s wrenched jacket and sobs.
The two walk to an empty bench and sit. “You listen to me Sarah. One day baby, one day we are going to be together again. I promise. Be good to your foster parents.” The school bell rings and the two say their goodbyes. “Tomorrow baby, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
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Dear Diary,
My life has turned upside down within the last year. Living on the streets of New York is hard and dangerous. I would have never thought it would come to this. My Sarah, my one and only daughter and I can no longer be together. I gave her away to the foster parents she has been living with. They are good wholesome people, who love and care about her. I go to the school yard each and every day to see her. I tell her that it is a secret. No one can know I say to her and she nods her head. She is to young to hold such a secret but she knows her mama loves her and this is the only way we can see one another. If her adoptive parents found out they will go right to the police I know it. But diary, I had to do it. I couldn't have him looking for us, looking for her. He needed to vanish from our lives and killing him was the only way I would know my baby was safe. I need to get my life back on track. I need to get off of the streets. Oh I hate hiding every day. This is my home for now. I need to stay here so I can see her. She is still my daughter, I don't care what those papers say.
The Adoption Papers
