Blind Spot


The cabin door banged open. 

“Big Joe!” Momma jumped up and began gathering the tarot cards scattered across the table. “We wasn’t expecting you for two weeks.”

Big Joe grabbed Momma by the nape of her neck and smashed a fist into her cheek. “I told you not to bring that foolishness into my home.” 

Momma crumpled into a heap upon the dirt floor. 

“That’ll teach you,” Big Joe said, kicking her in the ribs.  He went into their bedroom and shut the door.

I helped Momma to the couch.  I wet a washcloth and squeezed it out.  “I can kill him, Momma,” I whispered, pressing the cloth against her swollen cheek. You ain’t got to put up with this anymore.  Just say the word.” 

Momma shook her head.  “No.” 

She lay there quietly weeping.

I watched her fall asleep.

* * *

“Wake up.”  Momma nudged me. 

I blinked my eyes open.  “Where’s Big Joe?”

“Getting dressed.”  She knelt beside me; whispered.  “Big Joe ain’t bad, Cassidy.  He was just feeling small yesterday.”

“What do you mean?”

“He lost his job.  His anger made him blind.  He didn’t mean it.”

I thought about all the times Big Joe had hit my mother before.  “It ain’t right, Momma.”

She patted my arm.  “Go gather the eggs.  Hurry, now.  Big Joe’s in a fine mood.”

I worked too fast: I broke a dozen eggs on the dirt floor of the cabin. Momma reached out and slapped my face.  Then she got down on her knees and begged Jesus for forgiveness. 

After I washed the tears from my face, I prayed too: I prayed that Momma would stop feeling small.  I prayed that Big Joe would get a job out on the coast. 
But maybe the clouds were too thick for God to see me that day.  Maybe He didn’t hear my prayers.

Two days later, Big Joe started feeling small again.

Momma helped me to the couch.

She stood there, quietly weeping.

My mother watched me die.

This post was written in response to Trifecta's Writing Challenge.  The word was blind.

Labels: ,

Writing in the Margins, Bursting at the Seams: Blind Spot

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Blind Spot


The cabin door banged open. 

“Big Joe!” Momma jumped up and began gathering the tarot cards scattered across the table. “We wasn’t expecting you for two weeks.”

Big Joe grabbed Momma by the nape of her neck and smashed a fist into her cheek. “I told you not to bring that foolishness into my home.” 

Momma crumpled into a heap upon the dirt floor. 

“That’ll teach you,” Big Joe said, kicking her in the ribs.  He went into their bedroom and shut the door.

I helped Momma to the couch.  I wet a washcloth and squeezed it out.  “I can kill him, Momma,” I whispered, pressing the cloth against her swollen cheek. You ain’t got to put up with this anymore.  Just say the word.” 

Momma shook her head.  “No.” 

She lay there quietly weeping.

I watched her fall asleep.

* * *

“Wake up.”  Momma nudged me. 

I blinked my eyes open.  “Where’s Big Joe?”

“Getting dressed.”  She knelt beside me; whispered.  “Big Joe ain’t bad, Cassidy.  He was just feeling small yesterday.”

“What do you mean?”

“He lost his job.  His anger made him blind.  He didn’t mean it.”

I thought about all the times Big Joe had hit my mother before.  “It ain’t right, Momma.”

She patted my arm.  “Go gather the eggs.  Hurry, now.  Big Joe’s in a fine mood.”

I worked too fast: I broke a dozen eggs on the dirt floor of the cabin. Momma reached out and slapped my face.  Then she got down on her knees and begged Jesus for forgiveness. 

After I washed the tears from my face, I prayed too: I prayed that Momma would stop feeling small.  I prayed that Big Joe would get a job out on the coast. 
But maybe the clouds were too thick for God to see me that day.  Maybe He didn’t hear my prayers.

Two days later, Big Joe started feeling small again.

Momma helped me to the couch.

She stood there, quietly weeping.

My mother watched me die.

This post was written in response to Trifecta's Writing Challenge.  The word was blind.

Labels: ,

18 Comments:

At September 25, 2012 at 11:48 AM , Anonymous jaum said...

OOooo! You have a dark side. Never saw the twist till the end.

 
At September 25, 2012 at 11:55 AM , Anonymous Sandra Tyler said...

You're dialogue is phenomenal. You have an amazing ear. Did you see my new FB writing group?
https://www.facebook.com/groups/Sandraswritingworkshop/

 
At September 25, 2012 at 11:56 AM , Anonymous Thejadedlens said...

Oh my...I am sitting here crying. This is beautiful, powerful, painful, important work.

 
At September 25, 2012 at 1:00 PM , Blogger lumdog2012 said...

This is a great writing about a tragic subject.

 
At September 25, 2012 at 1:16 PM , Anonymous Kgwaite said...

jaum has left a new comment on your post "Blind Spot":

OOooo! You have a dark side. Never saw the twist till the end.



Posted by jaum to Writing in the Margins, Bursting at the Seams at September 25, 2012 11:48 AM


















Sandra Tyler has left a new comment on your post "Blind Spot":

You're dialogue is phenomenal. You have an amazing ear. Did you see my new FB writing group?
https://www.facebook.com/groups/Sandraswritingworkshop/

Oh my...I am sitting here crying. This is beautiful, powerful, painful, important work.

Posted by Thejadedlens to Writing in the Margins, Bursting at the Seams at September 25, 2012 11:56 AM

lumdog2012 has left a new comment on your post "Blind Spot":

This is a great writing about a tragic subject.

 
At September 25, 2012 at 1:37 PM , Anonymous Deana said...

Its sad how this happens everyday to women and children. So sad. Great writing.

 
At September 25, 2012 at 7:03 PM , Anonymous Jessie Powell said...

Woah. I felt something bad coming, but that ending just caught me up and slammed ME against the wall. Very well done.

 
At September 26, 2012 at 7:24 AM , Anonymous Ruby Manchanda said...

Strong writing.

 
At September 26, 2012 at 12:18 PM , Anonymous Laura Leary-Eitniear said...

Excellent writing. You really pulled me in and yanked me through to the sad ending. Wonderful piece.

 
At September 26, 2012 at 4:18 PM , Anonymous Annabelle said...

Oh, no. Big Joe "feeling small" is a great way to describe it; the narrator's voice is so well done.

 
At September 26, 2012 at 8:42 PM , Anonymous JannaTWrites said...

Oh my goodness. I read the story hoping momma would get the nerve to kill him. I didn't expect that ending at all. Feeling small is a good way to describe it. So sad there's so much feeling small in the world.

 
At September 27, 2012 at 6:58 AM , Anonymous Imelda said...

oh. How tragic! How could a mother be so blind? Your writing is beautiful and powerful.

A very well done response to the prompt.
~Imelda

 
At September 27, 2012 at 9:10 AM , Anonymous Renada Styles said...

that's horrible! i don't understand how people can let themselves live like that. truly a blind family.

 
At September 27, 2012 at 3:52 PM , Anonymous Flippa Bird said...

Damn. That's so tragic and very powerful.

 
At September 28, 2012 at 1:08 AM , Anonymous Trifecta said...

Wow. That took quite a turn. I really enjoyed the euphemism "feeling small." Nice job with the prompt.

 
At September 28, 2012 at 6:13 AM , Anonymous TLanceB said...

wow, I'm slayed. I also liked "feeling small". But the last 50 words? Damn. Just well done.

 
At September 29, 2012 at 11:19 AM , Anonymous Rene said...

The last bit was stellar. Really good writing.

 
At October 10, 2012 at 6:46 PM , Anonymous Djrelat7 said...

wow did not expect that kind of ending; does love make us blind? Makes you wish he or she should have gone ahead and killed Big Joe :(

Stopping by from Write On Edge weekend link up :)

 

Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home