Mum was a kite, always flying high on some substance or another.
Dad tried to control the kite, regardless of how strong the storm was blowing, always unsuccessfully trying to reel her in.
And I was the string. Always tense and frequently tangled. Trapped between the kite and its maker.
Sally Sadasivam is a doctor by day and amateur flash fiction writer by night.
Nice.
Exquisite metaphors!
I was very touched by this story. I especially liked “And I was the string. Always tense and frequently tangled.”
Wow! Powerful and sad story. Excellent writing.
Not all that many poems on this site. I hope the good doctor lets us see more of her writing.
This tugs at my heart, too, fiercely.
Very sadly real and chilling. And how many more strings are out there. Nice job!
Wow. Poignant and masterfully woven.