Feminist Martyr
FEMINIST MARTYR
I hadn't thought much of her when I saw her the first time. She was just background.
The next time, I took notice, because when I saw her punch some fella in the eye, she followed it up quickly with an elbow to his gut. She dropped him like a bad habit. Her red hair was memorable, flaming as she strode away from the fallen dude.
The third time was the charm, like they say. She was in a group of girlfriends, and was explaining why she had done what she did. She spoke of a smile a girl can smile when she has stood up for herself. She was stunning.
I was smitten, thunderstruck, gobsmacked.
When the car careened around the corner we all looked, we all saw the blazing gun.
But that smile was the last smile to come upon her face.
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This Prosery of 144 words (a dozen dozen) was based on the final line, originally appearing in “Ballad of Birmingham,” by Dudley Randall, that was written in 1968, but was about the bombing of a church in Birmingham, Alabama in 1963.
I was prompted by those honoring Dr. King today, over at DVerse Poets.
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So well-written, Chris. Reminds me of that Rockwell painting of the girl sitting outside of the principal's office with a smile on her face.
ReplyDeleteI love the vibrancy of your prosery. Transportative.
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely did not see that coming! Great storytelling.
ReplyDeleteSomehow the patriarchy always want to have the last word.
ReplyDeleteYou didn’t pull any punches with this story, Chris! I like the way your admiration takes three steps and is expressed in a list of three. The red hair is a great touch, as is the suddenness and the alliterative sentence: ‘When the car careened around the corner we all looked, we all saw the blazing gun.’
ReplyDeleteI would love to know more about her! There must be a fascinating backstory. Your prose captured my attention to be sure.
ReplyDelete