Soliloquy (2): Mother



One thing I’m sure of, ‘morrow, years later, you, my eldest, will remember me as the harshest mother of all not to give the love, the care you needed; but, what could I do, your father had died that time, in the first year of the invasion…for bread, for milk, for salt…ten years had passed since then…my little one, I know you’ll not remember me…not as vignette even…you’re not what I want…you’re a sin, but, my daughter after all…I don’t remember your father…au revoir son…take care of your sister…au revoir…


To read Soliloquy (1) click here.


In response to Sunday Strange Microficton Challenge (19/02/2017) by Jane Dougherty 


Painting by Pierre Puvis de Chavannes




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