Mini Short Stories: 2020 Volume 1

Ornament

My father was a rich businessman with the Midas touch. He owned and ruthlessly controlled more than half the land, businesses and people in our village.  He controlled our family in the same way. My mother was a timid mouse. My father hated that and beat her which just made her worse. She learned to remain an obedient ornament to his success. I learned to survive him by becoming an obedient puppet.

Whatever my father wanted I did. My comportment, education, hobbies and style were all dictated by him. I was fluent in five languages, played four instruments, a great footballer and always brought home top grades. Why wouldn't I? I never considered disobeying him after the first time I saw him beat mother. I was seven. She was hospitalised. I learned not to love her too much because that seemed his will too.

I followed him dutifully for years as he groomed me to be his successor. I lacked the genitalia he preferred. He always said that females were meant to be decorations but I was his only option so he groomed me. I remained his puppet until my mouse-mother died suddenly. "Men don't cry over dead animals," he stated coldly so I hid my grief, but I kept thinking that my mother was finally free.

I wasn't so lucky. I had to be more patient. I waited as he trusted me more and more with finances and decision-making in the businesses. Even in University I remained a part of the business which pleased him immensely. I had my plan to escape as he gave me more freedom and trust but I didn't need it. He was mauled by the vicious pack of dogs he'd purchased to guard his property. Property that was now mine.

He'd willed everything  to me; his only heir and the only trainee he ever trusted. He was a fool. An arrogant fool who bought every lying gesture I made and every deceitful word I uttered. I sold it all. The businesses, the houses and the cars. I was giddy with my freedom but not drunk on my own power. I gave away over half of what I earned and still had more than enough to figure out my own future. The day I sold the house I cried inconsolably. It wasn't for my father, but for me because I was finally free. More free than my mother. I was free to be me.

My name is Peta and I am no longer a pretty puppet. Now I am a woman who is learning to grow my own courage and to live free. A woman who is learning to bloom and grow without even the shadow of hate to stop me.

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This story probably sounds a bit extreme but there are people who live in environments with abusive family members.

Peta seems intent on surviving

What do you think will happen to her after?

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