Posted in Challenges and Contests, Flash Fiction Pieces, Parenting, Story a Day May Challenge, Writers' Resources, Writing in Freedom, Writing Samples

Lousy Mother: #StoryADay May; Day Twenty-Six

The Prompt:

  • Write a story in the form of a series of letters.

  • Fair Warning: Adult Themes and Language; NSFW.

Lousy Mother

Dear Mom,

It’s almost a joke to call you that. You’ve never been a mother to me, at least, not as far back as I can remember. Want to know something funny? I mean, snort-milk-out-your-nose-while-eating-freshly-baked-chocolate-chip-cookies funny?

You ditched me because Dad went and fucked “some little island tramp” and made another kid. Yeah, I know – you put a roof over my head and fed me and made sure I had clothes to wear – but that doesn’t mean you didn’t ditch me, in all the ways that count. All the ways a little girl needs her mother, if she’s going to grow up to be any kind of person worth knowing.

You ditched me, and I’m not worth knowing. I don’t even want to know myself, so I make damned sure I won’t ever have to….but that’s not what’s funny, either.

What’s so funny is that that kid Dad made in Hawaii – she’s more of a mother to me than you ever were. She’s barely sixteen, and she isn’t ready for any of this – I can see it in her eyes when I take the time to look. She’s shocked.

I mistreat her. I want to. For everything she’s ever taken from me, even though I know that’s a lie. She didn’t take anything away from me – it’s not her fault she got conceived, is it? Even I know that. I can’t put enough poison into my body, can’t ever get high enough, to forget that. She’s just the result – and it sounds like it really wasn’t her mother’s fault, either. She got charmed, just like you did. Only, her mother was a kid, younger than me, and she didn’t know any better. You were thirty when you had me, Mom – what the hell is your excuse?

Ophelia – that’s her name – she’s sweet. Kind. Smart. Patient. She cleans my puke and puts up with all the shit I give her, and she still tries to help.

I’m going to have a kid. I’m a lousy mother, already. Made it so my little girl doesn’t even have a brain. But maybe that’s a good thing; without a brain, she’ll never live long enough to know what a lousy mother the kid of a lousy mother can be…

Strange that her name is Ophelia, and I’m the one who’s bat-crap crazy…

With all my hatred,


Why is Marilyn writing her mother?

Will she write more?

What will they say, if she does?

Any guesses?

Come back tomorrow for another installment, and we can explore this new story seed together!


I am myself. I own my life, and live with three other people who own theirs. My intention is to do only those things that bring me joy, and to give myself wholly to those things I do. Writing has been my passion throughout my life, and this will become the home for my writing life...because it brings me great joy!

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