A Story In 100 Words

All I could say to my mother as she stood haggard over the sunken sink and washed the dishes; rattled the stainless steel pots trying to make some type of noise to fill up space that the silence had long held ransom was, “I don’t mean to be sad.” I gripped at the air as I said the words; tried to catch eloquence and understanding in my palms. I wanted to give her a better answer, a better reason. I wanted to appease. “I don’t mean to be sad,” again. Basic. All I could be…everything I could say. “I’m sorry.”

From Guest Contributor Endya Goliday

Endya is a fiction writer and playwright who resides in Saint Louis, Missouri.

Please support the site by purchasing one of my books on Amazon. Check out Quitting The Grave, a murder mystery set on the Oregon Trail. Plus, don't forget my other books: They Both Loved Vonnegut, Ahab's Adventures in Wonderland, and Picasso Painted Dinosaurs.