2024 February Flash Fiction Challenge: Day 17

For today’s prompt, write a story with a title that starts with “A Portrait of…” Like with the previous prompt where I gave you a title, feel free to fill in those ellipses with whatever inspires you!

Remember: These prompts are just starting points; you have the freedom to go wherever your flash of inspiration takes you.

(Note: If you run into any issues with posting your story, please just send me an e-mail at mrichard@aimmedia.com with the subject line: Flash Fiction Challenge Commenting Issue.)

Here’s my attempt at a story with the title “A Portrait of…”:

A Portrait of a Clubfoot Parent

The new mother is following the doctor’s orders. She is bending her son’s knee until it is a right angle, pinching the bone behind his big toe so she can position his foot into the boot just right. It is no easy feat with a thrashing child. If his heel is not far enough in the boot, he will get sores. If the boot is too tight, he will get sores. If the boot is too loose—sores. Her face is etched with concentration.

This is the task she has volunteered for. Her wife insists on feeding only from the breast to prevent nipple confusion, leaving the new mother helpless as the sun sets and her wife weeps with exhaustion and pain and hormonal letdown as she feeds their son again and again. Her body curves around him like a wave about to collapse on itself.

Her wife is hovering in the nursery doorway, eyes red-rimmed. The new mother hates the sound of their son’s screams, but her wife feels it like fiberglass dragged across bare skin. But this cannot be rushed. The new mother hums Wheels on the Bus under her breath as she clips the bar into the back of the boot—snap. Snap.

“You did it,” her wife says, a sag of relief in her tone.

For a moment, there’s the thrill of success. Their son’s face is purple with anger, but the worst is over. Then her son lifts his feet and brings the bar down on her wrist so hard that she sees stars.