An excerpt from a flash fiction piece I published in The Junction on Medium. Click the link to read the rest.
https://theweeklyknob.com/the-broad-brush-suicide-125afa9edd50
I didn’t even cry. Just went and sat on the back porch with a glass of iced Tang and looked at across the dry field at the stand of Bald Cypress. The thick fronds were already turning brown in the early summer heat. Sat there and thought about heaven and hell. Hadn’t even wanted to get into heaven, just thought like a child that my letter would be delivered to mama by God himself. All I understood was that she was dead so she must be in heaven. At eight I had to reconcile myself to a very lonely eternity sitting motherless next to God and I seriously wondered if maybe it’d be better to be in hell so as to see my mama one more time. Thought about that a lot as a kid. Felt better after grandma died when I was twelve. “At least I won’t be alone now,”I thought.