Yes, my brother and sister bloggers and writers. My father was a wife beater. It was a very painful time in my life. I was just a kid. He stopped beating my mother when I was around fifteen, but kids don’t forget. My father’s dead now. Mom, bless her soul, is still living.
Being the oldest son, I always felt guilty about not protecting my mother. But knowing my father, if I had ever raised a hand against him he probably would have killed me. He was a professional boxer before he got married and worked in the steel mills in Pittsburgh while I was growing up.
You want to know where ideas for flash fiction stories come from? They come from life. The following 115-word story is based upon my life…
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A flash fiction writer takes mud and makes gold out of it.
My father was a wife beater. So in 1964 at the age of seventeen I enlisted in the army to get away from home…
“Hey, Carter!” Murphy called across the barracks. Everyone was working on his gear. I sat on my foot locker spit shinning my boots.
“Yeah!” I called back.
“You ever eat a woman?”
Eat a woman? I really didn’t know what that meant. Besides, I got flustered around girls. All the older men in the barracks were listening.
“Sure,” I called back.
“Oh, yeah,” he called. “Well, tell me. How did it taste?”
“Salty,” I called.
Several of the older guys laughed appreciatively. Murphy did not harass me for the rest of the day.
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