Life in Flux

For Flash Friday vol. 2-12.

When the judge sentenced me, I laughed. Life in prison, for a retiree?

Hard time changes even an old man. I fell in the shower too often, so the warden put me in solitary — “protective confinement”.

After ten years behind those steel bars, I learned to cry. I mourned the numerous victims of my messed-up life. I read Scripture. I prayed forgiveness.

Parole denied.

Maybe I prayed to the wrong god. The talisman Bokor Gris gave me worked!

Here was that grungy welding shop from my childhood. My own blessed mother, a true Rosie the Riveter, unaware inside, welding steel to make ends meet.

That pinup calendar on the wall. January 1946!

I ran as fast as a septuagenarian can, up the road toward the brown wood-framed house. Inside, my gin-soaked stepfather’s torment of a certain little boy was just beginning.

The parole board said if I ever got out of prison, I’d kill again.

They were right.


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