Better Watch Out, Better Not Cry

Fatso

Fatso (Photo credit: overthinkingme)

Ginny Bocca sat by the window in her bedroom, her eyes following snowflakes fall on the houses up and down Bancroft Street, their colored lights signaling landing strips for reindeer.

“Boy, Mooshy, Mommy and Larry were pretty mad…I hope I haven’t done somethin’ so bad this time that Santa doesn’t come, ” she said to her one-eyed, threadbare Teddy bear.

“We been in here a long time and they stopped hollerin’ a million-zillion hours ago,” Ginny said, looking up at the cat-faced clock, swinging its tail in tick-tock monotony, when it meowed six times.

“When they come an’ unlock the door, I’ll tell ’em how sorry I am, whether Santa left me anything or not,” she said, blinking back what tears she had left.

As she stared out at the neighborhood again, Ginny saw living room lights blink to life here and there up the street, and once again she wondered what fell over last night, two loud bangs, when her Mommy and Larry finished their yelling and must have gone to bed.

A five sentence fiction, with a typically twisted holiday theme, based on Lillie McFerrin’s prompt word: Alone.

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7 thoughts on “Better Watch Out, Better Not Cry

  1. It’s a tough go living in some families. My family was pretty good overall–would have been better, I think, had my father not died in a motorcycle accident when I was 15.

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