a flash fiction written for the Faerytaleish Pinterest contest
I lied to my daughter.
I didn’t want to, but when she came to me with tear-filled eyes, asking,”Momma, where is Poppet?”, what else could I do? I couldn’t tell her about a broken fence and a blood-stained hutch. So I lied to her and told her Poppet went sailing on the moon to find all her star wishes and bring them back.
She believed me. Of course she did; she was four. It was so easy. And there were so many lies to tell.
"That’s from Santa."
"Put it under your pillow and a fairy will come."
"No one will notice your glasses."
"Of course that boy likes you."
"Nothing those girls say matters."
"You belong together."
"I will never leave you."
The room is white and spare. I can’t see it, but I can smell the pale walls and the metal. I can feel the wires and the needles and hear the beepwhoosh of the machines getting slower and slower.
And I can feel my daughter. Her hand is warm and my fingers are cold. I can feel her soft hair and her damp skin when she bends to kiss my cheek. “When you see Poppet, Momma,” she says, “Tell him all my wishes came true.”
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- yousaidineededa said:This is incredible.
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