The Centre of the World
She stood at the turn of the fast flowing tide, the mud oozing between her toes. She was wind-tossed and salty-tasting. And then the huge sea rushed in, crashing up her legs in splendid white-topped waves. Pulling at her feet.
Before the next briny onslaught, she turned to check where her Mother was.
Watch me! Watch me! She wanted to shout. Look how near to death I am!
But all she could see was her Mother and baby sister entwined together - a complete world outside her touch.
Survival of the fittest: Hands up - who knows just What is meant? Is it the symmetry of a square peg in a square hole or miles on the tread-walker that’ll get you there? When you’re young and tender – do you care? When you’re a middling – you don’t think of the end game – you are focused on your purpose. As you stop spinning, you catch your corners on the round hole you’re forced into; that can hurt. And then a trip to the shops covers all the ground you can spare.
You only get to ride the once. Are you a link on - or a dead end?
AVIS HICKMAN-GIBB lives in a small market town in deepest
Motivation for "Centre of The World": "This was originally for a writing Flash group prompt. But I became absorbed in presenting the danger the child feels necessary to court in order to get attention from her mother. It was in vain."
“Hands Up was a stream of consciousness flash that flowed from my fingers one days. It is meant to challenge the reader to take stock of their life, and their position on "are you passive or motivated when dealing with your life's path".