For the One Who Said She’d Never Come Back
My aunt declares she’s “tough as nails.” I envision tying knots in her hair, nailing each one to the wall, and letting her hang there while she tells me how to put my future husband’s wingtips by the door, how to hold a shot of hooch and prance around in heels one size too small. She spits, “No man wants a clodhopper,” and pats me on the back—next batter up—as if we played for the same team. Now I’m moving in. Her two sons lug trash bags jam-packed with my things to the basement. I forgot my hammer.
Photo Credit: Mike Bryan
I’m not so sure it’s a good habit to automatically assume works of fiction are about the writer’s life. It’s highly unlikely this short fiction is about the writer’s real aunt–much safer to assume this is a retelling of the classic fairy tale, Cinderella (Briar Rose). Nicely executed!
Great story but I feel sorry for your Aunt.