Fiction / My work

Blood & Bottles

A 500 word flash fiction piece is the perfect way to celebrate reaching 500 followers on Twitter.

I just want to say thank you again to everyone who follows me. I’ve met so many kind people on Twitter who are just as passionate about writing as I am. I enjoy talking to all of you, being motivated by you, and staying updated on the projects you’re working on. Just know I appreciate your support and I look forward to growing with you as a writer.

Now, without further ado, 500 words for my 500 followers. Enjoy!

Blood & Bottles

“My dad called. He’s coming to see us this weekend.”

I took another gulp of wine and Naomi made a face.

“How about we put the wine down?”

She reached to take the glass, but I held it tight. “You know better.”

She took a timid step backward. “Well, tell Grandpa that I can’t wait to see him and that he’s welcome to stay in my room while he’s here.” She flashed me a smile before traipsing off to her room.

“Naomi.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. This girl knew every single one of my buttons.

She turned around. “Yeah?”

“He’s not sleeping in your room.”
“Why not? He’s my grandpa.”

I emptied the wineglass. “Because he’s not coming. I refuse to have that man in my house.’

“Oh come on, Mom, what could he possibly have done to–”

I pointed a finger at her. “Trust me when I say that you’re not ready to have that conversation.”

“I’m seventeen!” she protested. “I’m almost an adult!”

“Oh, are you? Because last time I checked, I’m the only one in this house who pays the bills, buys the groceries, does the laundry—”

She stormed off in the middle of my sentence. I didn’t bother to call her back. It turned out that I didn’t have to, because she returned with a bottle of wine in each hand a few moments later. “Last time I checked, I stopped needing a bottle a long time ago.” She disappeared again, and a moment later I heard the sound of liquid being poured out.

I darted for the kitchen. “What the hell are you doing?!”

She didn’t say anything, just watched the wine swirl down the drain. I tried to wrestle one of the bottles away from her so I could top up my glass, but she tipped them so they spilled out even faster.

“You have no idea what you’ve just done.”

She tilted her head to the side and her lips jutted out in a mock pout. “Aww. Is the baby gonna cry now? Throw a tantrum for her bottle?”

I inched closer to her face, our noses almost touching. “I have never wanted to hit you so bad in my life.”

She slapped her cheek twice. “Bring it. I’m not scared of you, Wanda.”

I scanned her face: the square jaw clenched with steel indignation, the cutting green eyes, the tight line lips. She was every bit of me.

“Go to your room,” she said.

‘You seem to have forgotten who the mother is in this family.’

‘And you seem to have forgotten who the baby is.’

The doorbell chimed, breaking the tension for a brief moment.

Naomi snarled at me before heading off to answer it. I didn’t have to follow her to know who it was.

She led him into the kitchen, smiling wickedly. “Figured I’d drop by a little early. Hey, Wanda.”

I shattered the glass into bloodstained slivers that rained down on the floor.

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One thought on “Blood & Bottles

  1. Pingback: Two-Way Street | STL

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