My Ranking Points
This is the short story for the Winter Circus of Talents. Hope y’all enjoy!
Where are you, Mom?
“Where are you, Mom?” whimpered a little girl. Tears ran down her face. Her arms ached from them dragging her. “Mom!” She screamed. One of them started laughing, “Your mom ain’t going to come here to save you, witch. In fact she brought you to us. Turned you in, she did.” “Mom would never do that!” she said defiantly. “Shut up, girl!” They hollered. Coming to a door, they stopped dragging her. After they threw her in, she tried again to “spark”. This time she flamed brighter.
Day was no different than night in the prison. Every time she flamed; they would beat her. They told her to stop flaming but she kept on. The girl knew if she kept on flaming then her mom would be able to see her when she came for the girl. Doubt crept into the girl’s mind from the guard’s words. Did her mom really turn her in? Was she really not coming? Even though the doubts crept in, the girl still practiced her sparking. Soon, scars crisscrossed her back, arms, and over her whole body. One night after a very cruel beating, she curled up and whispered, “Where are you, mom?”.
Days turned to weeks and weeks into years. She practiced her “sparking” and her mom never came to save her. Sometimes the guards stopped by her cell to drag her into a questioning session. They always said, “You are unnatural.” They asked her questions about her mom and her mom’s intentions. “Did your mom want to use you as a weapon against the government?” More doubts slammed into her head after every questioning session. The girl’s heart grew bitter against her mom. Every day it hardened more. One day, the girl flamed up the entire prison. She stormed out shaking with fury because her mom had never came for her. As she sparked her hand, she said furiously, “Where are you, Mom?!”
City after city and place after place, the girl looked for her mom. She looked for jobs at every city she went to save money to find her mom. Slowly, her fury drifted away. In its place were memories of her mom and her together. Cooking memories. Story memories. Hide-and-seek memories. Finally, after searching everywhere, the girl returned home. She bought a house near the cemetery. While walking one day, she stopped in the cemetery. Reading the tombs, she came across her mom’s name. Tears came down rapidly unto the dirt beside the headstone. The date her mom died was the day she was captured. The girl fell on her knees on the grave. With tears still rolling down her cheeks, she whispered, “I found where you are, Mom.”