Mama loves me and I know that with all my heart. I also know she loves men better, especially big, hairy ones who bring her candy-colored pills.
I don’t mind their sleeves of ink or foul mouths because our TV doesn’t work and the sounds emanating from the bedroom to pay for those gifts are my only source of entertainment.
I cock my ear, straining to hear. I’m only six and I get transactions but something about this one isn’t right.
Too quiet, the screaming.
Too many thumps.
Too many of his words, none of hers.
I stand by the safety of the front screen door. Beyond it, the clouds morph into a single homogenous mass. I know as the clump swirls and darkens, a taste of rain in the air
Today Mama isn’t coming out of that bedroom looking flushed, sweaty.
This time Mama isn’t coming out at all.
While it saddens me to be alone and those pills have gone done it, not everyone can be fixed. Sometimes the bravest thing to do is to let go. Waving over my shoulder, I nudge the wood frame open and bravely step forward.
In Summer 2025, Punk Noir Magazine sent out a call for flash under the theme of “Mother” and written in under two hundred words. Who could resist such a dark and compelling call? Thanks to the editor Stephen J. Golds for including ‘Mama’s Good As Gone’ alongside so many other amazing writers.