Molly’s Memories of Her Shrinking Father

No more shoulder rides, you’re too big! Molly protesting, climbing up regardless, crushing Daddy’s tiny head, as he stumbled.

Daddy a thumbnail on a screen, in a desert, flinching at a gunshot, promising he’ll be home soon.

November 5th: Daddy back, altered, alien; his body curling, shrivelling on the sofa as fireworks crackled/pounded.

Dad leaving for his last Tour, receding up the street; Molly making a thumb-forefinger circle, peering through, capturing him as he shrunk to a dot.

The withered raisin in the casket, even smaller than she remembered. Molly wondering why, after seeing death, avoiding death, he chose death.

 


This story was shortlisted in the June monthly micro fiction competition.

About the author: Sarah Barnett. Originally a journalist and sub-editor, I turned to creative writing in 2017. I have two novels in the works and have written several scripts and plays. Three of my plays have been performed on scratch nights and ArtsEd students filmed one of my shorts. My flashes have been published by Flashflood 2021, Five Minutes, Free Flash Fiction and Paragraph Planet.