It's Going To Be Okay...A Short Story

 Flash Fiction Photo Prompt

First of all, the prompt's picture for this week can inspire so many different stories! Inspiration for my little story came from a post from a blog I follow, plus my story from last week dealt specifically with jail. I wanted to try something different. Still, my story is just one direction to take a bit of fiction. If you'd like to try it yourself, here are the rules:

1) Use the photo and the 5 words provided in your story

2) Keep your word count 500 words or less.
3) You have until next Tuesday to link up your post.
4) Link up your story at these sites: Nicole, Carrie, Tena, or Leanne. 

5) Have fun, don’t stress, let those creative juices flow.

Mandatory words:

Corporation

Bulldozer

Ceiling

Uniform

Tartan

I think the story kind of goes with the picture. What say you?

It's Going To Be Okay

He slammed the door so hard it shook the frame of the small two bedroom rambler. "Real mature," Susan said to no one. She was sure if her soon-to-be ex-husband's profanity-laced tirade didn't wake the baby, the sheer force of the door crashing against its frame would. By some miracle, only silence came from her daughter's room.

This was the part Susan hated most, sitting alone after a fight. Damn him, she thought. Damn him for making her feel like everything were her fault. Guilt not even a bulldozer could keep at bay rushed in as she looked up and could almost see the hate-filled words collecting at the ceiling, unable to escape. It was then the tears began to fall for the first time all day

Officially he'd moved out--or rather--she kicked him out the week before. As much as she feared the title of "single parent," she feared a future with him even more. She didn't care where he went as long as he was gone. Of course, until everything was deemed official by a bunch of blood-sucking leeches posing as lawyers, he could drop by whenever he wanted, no uniform schedule for him, no sir.

They say bad news always occurs in threes...father passing away last month. Well, that was one. Divorce, two, and news Susan received just the day earlier that her job as an accountant at the jail could soon end completed the trifecta. Apparently, a large corporation glad-handed some local politician and convinced them that privatization of the state's largest jail would be the answer to everyone's prayers, everyone's but Susan's and her co-workers. They knew of no one who would actually pray for a reduction of wages and a decimation of benefits.

But she'll worry about that later. Right now, her only priority was her daughter. She willed her tired body to rise from the kitchen table and walked to the front door. After locking it, she turned off the porch light letting everyone know the time for visitors was over for the day. She then carried her tired frame into the room where Lara slept.

"Hey, Sweetie," Susan cooed as the precious bundle gently stirred under the blanket her father gave his only granddaughter. She looked at the tartan colors, her family's centuries old pattern and wished her father were there--wished more than anytime since he died that she could talk to him, if only for five minutes. She wrapped her daughter in the blanket, picked her up and carried her into the front room.

"It's going to be okay," she said, hoping her words proved true. "It's going to be okay," Susan said through sobs that refused to stop.

Word Count: 456