Short Story / The Prayer
Lahra sat on the floor by the side of her mother’s bed with her legs folded under her, staring up at her mother reading in her rocking chair from her gold trimmed bible. Lahra’s leg cramps were worse and her knees had creases in them from sitting on the pile carpet since ten o’clock. She felt thirsty and her eyes were slipping closed as if on greased hinges. Not long now, she told herself, as she leaned her shoulder into the soft mattress doing her best to prop herself up. The clock’s face was hidden in the shadow of the ivory candle but Lahra could just make out the arrows pointing toward midnight. The starchy sheets, mixed with the scent of coconut hair oil, smelled like a sticky treat. On Christmas Eve her mother read from the bible the longest, but soon she would close the bible and it would be Christmas. Lahra stifled a yawn, stretching her eyes wide to admire her mother’s colorful hair scarf tucked behind her ears while everywhere else on her head the cloth rode high over big rollers. Her hair was tied the same way, tight, full of hair oil, and pins that scratched her scalp like a startled cat tied to her head. She drew her mind away from the irritation by letting her mind wander to the brightly wrapped gifts. She could see them waiting for her when her mother stopped reading. The room was eerily quiet. Lahra tensed. Her mother stared at her but Lahra knew to wait, as she had in the past. If she moved it was sign of doubt in the Lord’s mercy. Her mother closed the bible and Lahra heard the distinct hush of a thousand voices silenced. Clammy cold sweat trickled down her underarms. The silence was palpable. Her mother knelt beside her and pressed Lahra’s hands against the knife that had been lying on the nightstand and began to pray. Lahra’s ears itched. The moment she dreaded felt so close it branded her face like a hot iron. “As a test of Abraham’s faith, the Lord commanded him to offer up his son.” Her mother said or she said it herself, she wasn’t sure. “Close your eyes, dear child.” Lahra’s eyelids were so heavy that closing them gave her immense relief almost an out of body experience. She had a view over a rocky ledge, where her body was swimming in icy fear. Lahra waited, hearing her mother’s pleas and supplications to God, for strength. Her body leaned heavily on Lahra who was damp and weak. When the moment had passed, there was the gift of God’s mercy. The knife lay discarded beside her mother’s crumpled body, which heaved with tears moved by the power of the holy spirit. Lahra rose slowly, her legs weak, as if she hadn’t used them before. She staggered through the darkened hall, shaking and spent, her small shadow thrown into relief by the warmth of Christmas tree lights.
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Is flash fiction something new? I’ve read a few items submitted on Urbis and it seems that everything is thrown into the story at once, unedited and on the wings of sudden aspiration. There’s a neat story within your submission, something that needs polishing up with punctuation and varying legnths of sentences. I think we need more information on the mother as to why she’s so devoted? Is it the way she’s been brought up and now wants to teach this to her child, who is truly interested in the gifts nearby at first. I think there is a premise here to a story evolving the strong relationship between mother and child. Nice beginning.
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Not at all what I expected in the middle and end, great story line. At first I felt the wonderment of child waiting for Christmas and presents. You expressed your self very clearly and your use of descriptors was great. I could almost smell the coconut oil. When the mother stopped reading I didn’t quite get what I expected, I was shocked and surprised at the same time. Wonderful use of words to evoke feeling especially of suspense and relief. A little too dark for me but I enjoyed it none the less. You have a wonderful talent and a good grasp of words and how to use them.
Very descriptive. Made me think of “Carry” by Steven King. There is a short short story competition in Writer’s Digest every year. If you got a copy the next entry date is coming up. You would have to add some to this piece and give more background/detail on the mother but I think you might be published, and perhaps win an honorarium, via that type of competition.
Best of luck in your pursuit. I too write about the conflicts of mother/daughter relationships. Keep it up. So little is written (Girl by Kincaid). It’s so important.
I’m really new to this, and this is my first review, so I understand if you do not take my review to seriously.
he biggest thing I noted was that the story is all in one lump of text. This made it difficult to read. It felt like you wanted to fit a range of important parts of the story in to such a short passage and this was reflected in the cramped writing.
I would recommend structuring the story in paragraph format. It will be easier to read and more likely to be reviewed.
The story did interest me and I would now like to understand the characters and what lead to this scenario. Was she dreaming?
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