I lay on my back staring at the light above. Alone. Why would anyone want to be here? I am hated by most, including my kids.
I saw my mother’s face above.
“I knew I would die alone, Mama. I have lived terrible life. Lies. Manipulation. Hate. No one cares and I don’t blame them,” I confessed.
A tear formed in the corner of my eye. I felt its coolness as it slowly ran down my cheek onto my earlobe. I labored to breathe. The light above intensely bright in the center yet blurry outward.
“You’re not alone,” she whispered.
This is fiction written for FRIDAY FICTIONEERS
Write a one hundred word story that has a beginning, middle and end. (No one will be ostracized for going over or under the word count.)
Make every word count.
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