ficlet: Nursery Rhymes and Folktales
Nursery Rhymes and Folktales
[gen, PG, approx 400wds]
Ficlet set within the movie Black Snake Moan, and it's more of a character study than anything with a plot. This is for someone who has been nothing less than incredible. She's amazingly supportive of everything I write, and always has a kind word to spare to me when I'm feeling down. Warning: THE DREADED SECOND PERSON.
Also, expect another post tonight, I think. Just a warning. We'll see if I don't keel over from lack of sleep.
You think your mother sung it to you when you were young, when you were just a tiny slip of a girl with bruises covering half your face. She’d fold the bedsheets over you, real tight so no one could get in, and she’d turn on your night-light, a little lamp that reflected animal shapes onto the walls.
You tell your momma that they guard you while you sleep, but not everyone’s perfect, they can’t be vigilant forever. Sometimes he slips past them, you tell her, when everything goes black and the circular orange ember is the only light in the darkness.
She gets a pinched look on her face then, your momma, but she doesn’t say nothin’. She lets you turn your face into the light, and she sings real quietly.
this little light of mine, i’m gonna let it shine, this little light of mine…
Here you are twenty years later, still alive somehow, but you’re still a thin slip of a girl with bruises covering half your face. He takes the guitar from you, a half-smile on his face as your fingers run over the wood, and his fingers caress the neck like the guitar is his longest lover, the only one he got left.
You think maybe he missed his calling in life, when he was robbed of being a father. You think that he’s the type that’d make it work, and that he doesn't take discipline to mean submission. He tells you to close your eyes, and think on what you love, and you don’t question him.
While you’re not concentrating on picking the right strings, you listen to your voice. It’s high and girlish, not fully mature, and you think that’s about as apt as it’s gonna get. Your fingers tap on the naked flesh of your thighs, and when you move your lips, you can feel it stretching the healing wounds over your cheek.
i’m gonna let it shine, let it shine, let it shine, let it shine
You feel the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, and when you see Ronnie, you’re not sure if you opened your eyes.
[gen, PG, approx 400wds]
Ficlet set within the movie Black Snake Moan, and it's more of a character study than anything with a plot. This is for someone who has been nothing less than incredible. She's amazingly supportive of everything I write, and always has a kind word to spare to me when I'm feeling down. Warning: THE DREADED SECOND PERSON.
Also, expect another post tonight, I think. Just a warning. We'll see if I don't keel over from lack of sleep.
You think your mother sung it to you when you were young, when you were just a tiny slip of a girl with bruises covering half your face. She’d fold the bedsheets over you, real tight so no one could get in, and she’d turn on your night-light, a little lamp that reflected animal shapes onto the walls.
You tell your momma that they guard you while you sleep, but not everyone’s perfect, they can’t be vigilant forever. Sometimes he slips past them, you tell her, when everything goes black and the circular orange ember is the only light in the darkness.
She gets a pinched look on her face then, your momma, but she doesn’t say nothin’. She lets you turn your face into the light, and she sings real quietly.
this little light of mine, i’m gonna let it shine, this little light of mine…
Here you are twenty years later, still alive somehow, but you’re still a thin slip of a girl with bruises covering half your face. He takes the guitar from you, a half-smile on his face as your fingers run over the wood, and his fingers caress the neck like the guitar is his longest lover, the only one he got left.
You think maybe he missed his calling in life, when he was robbed of being a father. You think that he’s the type that’d make it work, and that he doesn't take discipline to mean submission. He tells you to close your eyes, and think on what you love, and you don’t question him.
While you’re not concentrating on picking the right strings, you listen to your voice. It’s high and girlish, not fully mature, and you think that’s about as apt as it’s gonna get. Your fingers tap on the naked flesh of your thighs, and when you move your lips, you can feel it stretching the healing wounds over your cheek.
i’m gonna let it shine, let it shine, let it shine, let it shine
You feel the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, and when you see Ronnie, you’re not sure if you opened your eyes.