Sara Writes

  Not a Lullaby   Clara fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve as she sat on a bench in the unkempt park near her house. Her feet shifted and tucked at something, she looked down and saw some weeds growing out. Her hand gazed on her forearm where it stung. She had covered up the bruise pretty well with her gray clothes but that didn’t help cover up the pain at all.  It’s just a bruise, it will go before you know it. She thought to herself.  She closed her eyes and laid her head back and soon began to drift off when suddenly out of nowhere today’s memory seeped in. Everything was a blur when a big hand came and slapped her across the cheek, the impact made her face the right corner of the room, where her mother lay unconscious and beaten up, she tried to reach for her but she was sharply pulled back by her forearm and then there was another slap and another and another. By the time Clara snapped out she was gasping and fighting her tightening throat. After a few moments she calmed down and