The communist dictatorship of my motherMature

A story i started writing the day i turned 17
i'm treating it as a personal challenge >can i write a full length story?<
i want to see if i have it in me so please critique and comment to your heart's content

Bzzzt bzzzt bzzzt!


            Bzzzt bzzzt bzzzt!

            “Meeeeh, go away.”

            Bzzzt bzzzt bzzzt”

            “Shut up!”

            Th-dunk. My alarm clock promptly obliged as it bounced across my carpet but not before it had me thoroughly awake. Irritatingly insistent buzzing, if only Mum had let me keep my old alarm clock. I could sleep through that one. I rolled over and pulled the covers tighter. Hopefully I’d be back asleep in no time.

            “GET UP!”

            Or not as the case may be.

            A tall imposing figure strode through my doorway bringing a slight chill that had nothing to do with the breeze. Her straight dark hair was cut short and framed a severe and serious face which had a quality akin to being carved from rock. Direct, domineering, uncompromising, unyielding. Meet my mother. She flung back my curtains, opening the floodgates for morning light to spill into my room. My sleepy haven was stripped away, as were my sheets and duvet as she endeavoured to further violate my peace.

            “Mum, please! What are you doing? I’m sleeping okay? You can’t just barge into my room and…”

            “I can do whatever I want and when you are late and going to ignore your alarm that I specifically told you to set for fifteen minutes ago, I damn well am going to barge into your room. Do not forget, young lady, that this is my house. Now get up. You have school.”

            And with that she swept from my room as if she’d never been there. Who does she think she is anyway, storming into my room and harassing me? Then having the nerve of it to be angry with me for not waking up. I mean honestly, don’t I have the right to sleep? Stupid mother. It’s the first day of the school year, it’s not like anyone cares anyway. I continued to grumble in a sleep-deprived tantrum as I pulled my clothes on. Before me in the mirror stood a decidedly grumpy girl, her chestnut hair frizzed up by her jumper, dark green eyes ringed with sleep, scowling back at me.

            “Suki Marie Darter, get downstairs now, or so help me you will not see allowance until next Christmas!”

            “I’m coming already! What is your problem? Jesus!”

            I huffed loudly, hoping she would hear. Taking a final glance at myself in the mirror, I stuck my hair into a ponytail, snatched up my bag and stalked out of my room.

            I emerged into the maelstrom of clutter that was the landing. For God’s sake, why doesn’t someone clean it up? All this crap, I mean seriously where does this much rubbish even come fr-OW! I stepped on something sharp and winced in pain, kicking it down the stairs

“PICK IT UP!” came the instant command.

Even more pissed off, stamped down the stairs in a cloud of rage that I knew was written all over my face. Stupid Mum would just scream at me again and tell me to clean up the landing if I complained, but she couldn’t stop me glowering. If it was such a problem to her she should tidy the bloody landing her bloody self. Because it was her bloody house of course.

            Ironic for such a control freak that it sounded like a cage of wild animals had been let loose in the kitchen. Typical of my little brother and sister. Annabel’s strident whine rang out, in the annoying way that only little sisters of about 12 who think they’re old enough to rule the world can quite pull off. The stupid girl never did realise how spoilt she sounded. Christopher, being a nine-year-old boy already thought he could rule the world and varied only between shout, scream and cry. He gave me a headache at the best of times and right now I just was not in the sort of mood where I could deal with his shit. All the noise was putting Mum into full tyrannical dominion mode, and I knew that meant it was time to leave before I became collateral to the purging of deviants under her iron-fisted law. I made a dash through the kitchen grabbing a slice of toast on the way.

            “Suki, wait! I need you to-”


I was out the door and walking before she could rope me into something else that wasn’t my problem.

I breathed deeply, letting the cool air breeze away the cloud of ire that saturated my home and me. I was glad to be free. Glad to be on my own. I didn’t have to handle anything but myself this way. It was fair. I always looked after myself, never asked Mum or anyone to do anything for me. Why should I have to be doing what she tells me at all? Besides a parent should look after the child, not the other way around. I sighed. I munched on my toast, the rhythm of my chewing matching my stride. It was a little ritual I had that helped me calm down. Just focus on counting the steps, listen to the rhythm. Bite, crunch, crunch, crunch, bite, crunch, crunch, crunch. Before I knew it my feet had carried me to the bus stop. I stood under the tree and watched the grey clouds chase each other across the blue sky. Looked like rain. I yawned and waited for the bus as I finished my toast.

The End

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