Submitted for Stream of Consciousness Saturday
I found this prompt today through a blog I follow and decided to give it a try. Today’s prompt is “NAME”. I started writing a story and then I thought that since it was Mother’s Day this weekend, I might give the story a public service angle. I hope you enjoy my story and join with me in acknowledging that a woman has a right to be safe and the entire community has an obligation to stop the violence.
When he woke up in another roadside motor lodge, he nearly forgot where he was. Of course this was not an uncommon occurrence. It was another city and soon he’ll be forced to remember another name. The question, “What is your name?” always gave him pause. For the last four years he’d been called Bobby, Sam, John, Zachary and Joseph. His last name changed too. Currently Joseph Smith but he knew when his mom picked him up in the middle of the school day that they’d be moving and his name would change again.
Tom stretched and sat up when his mother let herself back into the room. Tom was his real name. Her real name was Margie but she’d been Sally, Kim, Mary, Barb and Joan.
“Where are we mom?”
“It’s a small town across the river from Philadelphia. Get up and get dressed. I’ll be meeting a man in about an hour who will provide us with new identification and papers.”
“What is my name this time?”
Margie new her son was frustrated and scared. He was too young to have such a fearful life. “You are Michael Winner and I am your mother, Karen.”
“Winner? That’s a hoot.”
“I know baby. We can’t let your father find us. He’ll take you away from me and I fear for my life from him. I know too much about his crimes.”
“What happened to force us to leave North Carolina?”
“I stopped for coffee on the way to work and there was a poster hanging on a bulletin board inside the store. It had a photograph of us from four years ago and portrayed a sad story of a loving husband wanting to find his missing loved ones. Anyone who read it would cry their eyes out and pick up the telephone if they recognized us.”
“I know I was very young when we first ran but I understood mom. I know how he hurt you. I used to hide under my bed and cover my ears. I don’t want to be afraid but I am tired of running.”
“I know baby. I am sorry you have this kind of life. One day I will get us out of this mess.”
Tom picked up the television remote and began flipping through channels looking for cartoons. He was about to change the channel again when a loud booming voice announced NO MORE
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