When Happy Endings Were Too Hard


The door opens.
Footsteps echo down the corridor.
That booming voice, those eyes – seething with contempt. The air, violently seized by a cloud of hostility.
The little boy was all smiles and innocence. His eyes gain years within seconds. He cringes, waits for the whiplash that isn’t coming.
Silence. No words spoken. No quips exchanged.
Eyes meet and hastily part ways, afraid to linger.
Pompous strides, two seconds of emptiness and then a sigh of relief.
The boy looks at his sketchpad – a portrait of a happy family gazes back animatedly at him.
The crude crayon strokes hold a distant dream. A castle in the air. Floating on its puffy white cloud.
He rips the sheet out and crumples it.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s