Photo Copyright: Douglas M. MacIlroy
Mama collected. Everything. She said every object had worth, a history. It was her calling to tell their stories in her art.
She rummaged and searched, brought home strays and leftovers. She lost herself in jagged tales of glass, crumbled fables of stone, and splintered sagas of wood. Beautifully woven rubbish.
She discarded my story, forgot my worth.
Mama died a year ago, but she’s still here watching over me. Jagged glass had more than one use, more than one story to tell. I think she’d be pleased with my cutting-edge memoir of her.
This story was written for Friday Fictioneers; 100 words or less based on the photo. I’ve been gone a while. I almost forgot how to write and blog, but it came back to me. Click on the badge below if you would like to read some of the other stories.
Chronic Nonsense 
Whoop whoop, loved it!
Thanks, Karen.
Ah.. we seem to have seem similar thing in that collection.. sad really to become owned by such a collection …
Yes, it is sad. I have been in a hoarder’s house before, and it is disturbing to see. My hoarder took her creativity to a new level and transferred it in dark ways to her daughter.
The creative gene metamorphosis. Very interesting…
Thanks, Dawn.
The’ jagged glass’ image sums up the tone and the narrator’s bitterness perfectly
Thanks so much, Siobhan.
Really well written. Well done.
Thank you so much!
A lovely use and play on words in this. Beautiful.
Thanks, Alicia.
I had difficulty deciding if she committed suicide or her mother did or if it was all just a symbolic remark. Regardless, well done!
You introduced a new interpretation of the story, suicide. I meant it to show the daughter killed her mother and used her in the art, continuing her mother’s legacy of collecting and telling stories. I can definitely see how you came to the conclusion of suicide though. I’m often too vague in my writing, leading to more than one story, but I rather like the idea that I’ve created a bit of mystery. I’ll let the readers decide. Thanks for reading!
Nothing wrong with several meanings; I do it when I can. Thanks!
Incredible how your words here ooze bitterness and sadness. Well done.
Thanks, Sandra.
My first thought was that the daughter killed her mother, and I see from your reply to a comment that this is what happened. I loved the line “Beautifully woven rubbish” – I can almost hear the daughter spitting those words out, her face twisted and bitter.
Thanks so much.
I love the opening of this. And I love how you’ve shown the mother’s perspective so well in your descriptions of her ‘rubbish’. Great story.
Marg
Thank you, Marg!
A bit of a bite here. Well told. Love the juxtaposition between what mom lovingly collected…and the daughter she sidelined.
Thank you!
Dear Lisa,
I’m pleased…well maybe that’s not the word…to see that I interpreted your story correctly. I thought she’d murdered her mother. Powerful writing. The clipped style made it stronger.
Shalom,
Rochelle
Thank you so much, Rochelle!
Dear Lisa,
At first I thought suicide but then realized that something else had occurred, something far more sinister and, for the reader, more powerful. You really knocked this one out of the emotional and atmospheric park.
Aloha,
Doug
Thank you, Doug!
Great stuff – forgetting the people in her life and obsessing over the things, which leads to her daughter ‘seizing her attention’ via the murder (or that’s how I read it). Dark and very clever.
Thank you so much!
Welcome back Lisa. Good take on the prompt. I thought it was the daughter killing the mother, but had to do a double check after reading other peoples comments. Good read!
Thank you.
Powerful words!
Thanks so much!
Ouch, this is so sad – I went with the suicide possibility. Very powerfully done.
Thank you. I think either interpretation works.
Lisa, Welcome back. I thought it was murder at first also. Good sinister story and well written. — Susan
Thanks so much, Susan!
Powerful story with many layers.
Thank you!
Well written piece, Lisa. I shuddered at the thought of suicide. That would be my interpretation.