Furious Fiction – Feb 2019

Alright, more Furious Fiction!

The rules this time were; start with a three word sentence, had to include a ‘first’, and had to include a candle.

As always, 500 words or fewer and submitted within 55 hours of the conditions being released.

I did try. I mean, REALLY tried to write a happy ending this time. 

I didn’t work. I might have a problem. To be honest I nearly didn’t publish this one because I’m not entirely comfortable with it myself. But it is what it is, and it holds me to account to write a happier ending next time. . .maybe.


Three little words. Years of silence since the accident, then finally . . .words. I don’t know what to say, even if I could speak. We knew when we signed the papers that there were going to be challenges, but six years of silence? Six years to wait for her first words, despite all we did to push those words out. I feel lightheaded. Her voice is so strange, so confident like she had never been impacted by the trauma. My heart skips a beat and I can hear Dave blubbering next to me. He doesn’t hold back, the tears flowing as tries to comprehend. I think it’s hitting him the hardest. He thought we were doing the right thing, that we could fix her, yet every day the silence grew and our hearts broke for her a little more.

My eyes are burning now, my own tears pouring out now too. Onya Dave, setting me off as well. I can barely see her through them now. I want to hold her. I want to tell her it will all be ok, that she can tell us anything, that we want to hear, we’ve been waiting to hear for years.

A tickle running down my back, something thick and with an odour that burns my nostrils. This is it. I thrash against the ropes binding my wrists and ankles and see Dave do the same. A muffled yell through the duct tape around his mouth. I love you. I’m so sorry. I can’t understand the words, but I can see it in his expression. He blames himself for not fixing her. Six years of trying, and it suddenly dawns on me.

She never wanted to speak.

She never wanted to be fixed.

There is no thanks, no love in her eyes as she finished pouring the pungent liquid from a jerry can. Then she says them. Three little words, the first since her parents died. Her real parents.

“Fuck you guys.”

She drops a candle and leaves the room.