Wednesday, 6 April 2011

You can't have my pride -- Red Writing Hood Prompt

Someone has stolen something from you (or your character). Something of tremendous value. What will you do to get it back? Or will you give up?

Write a post - fiction or non - and tell us about it. Word limit is 600.

It hurt. Oh God, it hurt. Again I allowed him to tear from me my hopes and dreams – to steal my heart and trample on it while I watched.
This time would be different. This time I had something he couldn’t take from me. I had pride, confidence and strength. This time, unlike the first, I knew how to defend myself. I had taken every lesson from the first time and built it into something employable, and something deadly.
I knew how to be angry.
I knew how to take my pride back.
Patient and quiet I watched from my corner like a lioness evaluating her prey, the slight hint of a smile at the corners of my mouth.
He had just come back from my mother’s where he had to explain to our son why he was such a loser. He eyed me nervously as to and fro he walked, gathering his things and taking them to his truck. Through the thin curl of smoke at the end of my Marlboro I watched and planned my move.
One box left, it’s time. I put out my cigarette, turned the lock on the bedroom door, and stood poised, door still open, until I heard him making his way back down the hall.
Let him think I’m leaving the room. Let him feel like he’s going to get out without a scene. You deserve this moment. HE deserves this moment.  He lies. He cheats. He steals. You’re about to take it back, girl.
Don’t take your eyes off of him. Make the first one count. He’s almost here. You can do this. You NEED to do this.
He’s in…
Back still to him, I shut the door.
‘Now what’, he said, with a mixture of annoyance and anxiety.
Now what? Thanks, you cretin, for fueling my ire only seconds before I smash your face.
‘Now what?’ I ask, as I make my way to stand in front of him. ‘Now what, is that I have just one more thing for you before you go.’
Did you see that? He just rolled his eyes. Get close girl. You’ve only got one shot at this -- make it count. The bastard is bigger and stronger.
Tightly clenching my fist, I turn as if to walk away. Then, with all the strength of my body I swing. Fist still closed I backhand him right in the mouth and watch him fall backwards into the corner of the bookshelf.
‘That was for me!’ I shout as I poise for the next blow. I paused for him to regain his footing. I was going to fight fair.
Wham! Another shot to the face.
‘That was for my children!’
‘That was for Faith and Amie!’
‘That’s enough,’ he said, grabbing my arms.
‘You deserve that and more,’ I sneered.
He let go.
A mistake, thinking I was done.
He grabbed my arms. ‘I said enough.’
Relax. Wait.
He let go.
The moron is a slow learner.
 ‘Damn you!’ I screamed.
I hit him until I couldn’t anymore, dodging his attempts to grab my arms.
His fists were balled at his sides. He was prepared to hit me back. I dared him.
Wham! I hit him again.
I smiled, noting the blood on his lip and his now puffy eye.
‘Thanks,’ I smiled.
‘Yeah, I just had ten years of therapy in minutes, you’re still loser and you’re not getting out the door with my pride. So, thanks. And..uh…have the new girlfriend put some ice on that eye. Gonna be a good one.'


  1. I am curious. Fiction or nonfiction?

  2. Wow. Well, it sounds like he deserved it for sure, fiction or not! ;)

  3. Awesome. Fiction or not, tell her I said to kick his ass again.

  4. That was pretty intense! I loved the comparison to a lioness. It was such a powerful line. The vision that popped into my head really helped set the tone.

    Great job!

  5. I think I'm blushing. Thanks ladies.

  6. Love this!
    I wonder how many women dream of doing this.

    And the last paragraph, wonderful.