The Beast At the Clubhouse
Ficlets and Ficly survivor, FicMom, and Mistress of Well-Intentioned Indecision and Goddess of Unrequited Love. @ElshaHawk @HawkandYoung
We built a clubhouse way back where our two properties meet, sheltered in the woods. It was a our own safe house, a place of love, friendship, and laughter.
Soon after it was built, the thrill of a new getaway began to wear off. We'd named it, made signs to announce to others that it was off-limits to intruders, and falsely believed our parents oblivious to its existence.
We'd meet there in silence. At first, it was companionable to just lie near each other. If he didn't want to talk about what was going on at home, that was fine. When I had a problem, he'd listen to my silent tears and sniffles, too.
But not talking created a beast. It was large and green, the color of jealousy. He never saw it. It came out when he wasn't around. It would growl outside the door and paw at the foundation. I would cower in fright and refuse to leave until someone came out and scared the beast away.
One day the beast was going to dig enough soil from the foundation to collapse the clubhouse around me. Who would rescue me?
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
Comments (1 so far!)
Read it, like the clubhouse metaphor. Uhm.
- #1624 Posted 6 years ago
- Published 6 years ago.
- Story viewed 4 times and rated 0 times.
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