5
“”
In my past life, I’d known little about writing.
Essays were just test scores. I admired
authors, believing them to be highly
intellectual and sophisticated. Kevin had used
this, taking me to art shows and book
signings, impressing me with his “knowledge”
all gleaned online.
After marriage. I discovered he’d never read
Г
After marriage, I discovered he’d never read
those books, piecing together information to
deceive me. I loved reading and writing
because of it, buying many books.
I was scolded for spending time reading
instead of working. Kevin, prejudiced against
women, believed they should stay home,
forbidding me to work. I depended on him
completely.
I’d secretly submitted writing, but years of
abuse had stifled my creativity. My
submission rate was low, but I earned a little,
proving I wasn’t useless. Writing was a ray of
hope.
Reborn, I was free, my creativity renewed,
strengthened by my past.
The contest was February 8th. The warm sun dispelled the gloom of the recent rain. The
prompt was “flowers,” and hollyhocks came
to mind
L
I feared my rebirth was a dream, that I’d wake
up back in that bloody delivery room. But I
embraced it as a second chance, to be
myself, to pursue my dreams.
An hour later, I finished my essay. I felt
refreshed.
“Teacher!”
She turned. I jumped on her. She’s short; she
almost fell. Everyone stared, some gave me
thumbs up.
“So happy? It’s a sure win?” She laughed, not
offended.
“Don’t catch a cold. Back to the bus.”
The art contest lasted longer. While we ate
snacks, my classmates started talking about
- me.
“Lee, I thought you were gloomy, but you’re
so bold. Jumping on your teacher!”
I thought of Zach. “Because I’m the valiant
warrior who slays dragons.
“”
The bus erupted in laughter.
I didn’t see Zach that afternoon. The art
teacher said he didn’t show up. He’d
chickened out. That wasn’t like him.
I texted him; no reply. No answer to my calls.
On the bus ride home, he texted: “I went
home.”
That was the last I heard.
Three days later, my teacher called: I’d won
first prize.