Writing Challenge: Loved by Lightning
by V Rose Dahrke
So, Sonia M. over at Doing the Write Thing is hosting a March Writing Challenge, and I’ve decided to enter. As my two-year-old proudly announces when presenting me with a sharp object: “Here go!”
I should have listened with both ears instead of one; I might have been able to capture something I could grip onto. I might have been able to keep the words from being taken from me.
“Don’t worry, Frankie. We’ll make it alright.”
When I flunked my way out of a full ride: “You’re smarter than them, Frankie.”
When Margot left: “We still love you, Frankie.”
When I lost my job; when I lost my apartment; when I lost everything: “You still have us, Frankie.”
They came from the radio first, then the television, the computer; they came from the electricity, from the wires in the walls. They came from streetlights and buildings and telephone poles. They came from the air itself.
“You’re someone special, Frankie,” they said.
Was that so bad? Was it really so terrible that someone reassured me, cared for me, encouraged me? Was it so wrong to be loved?
Was it so wrong to just be spoken to? You never talk to me, any of you. They did. But that was “dangerous”.
It was dangerous just to listen.
Well, I’m still listening, and even if I never hear another word I’ll have tried. I’ll have been faithful; I’ll have been loyal. I’ll wait for them.
Both my ears are open now, and no matter how often you tell me I never heard a thing I’ll never shut them. Never.
Take your pills and go to hell.