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    The Door Slammed Contest Winner 
 Category:  General Fiction
  Posted: September 18, 2021      Views: 63

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Fictional story with, The Door Slammed..
"Eventually You Have to Let Go" by AliMom



The door slammed, echoing down the long hall. She followed with a hammer, screwdriver, step-ladder, and a very determined look on her face. She propped the step-ladder in the space where the door met the jamb and climbed the two short steps. Carefully she began removing the hinges.

"Mom, what are you doing?", her fifteen-year-old daughter sniffled from where she lay on the bed.

She inserted the screwdriver into the second screw in the hinge but it was harder to manage. She didn't have enough strength in her hand to make it turn.

"Wait!" Are you...?

She reached into her pocket for the small container of WD-40 and squirted a bit near the top of the metal hinge. Can you use WD-40 on wood? She heard the groan of wood protesting as she leaned in and turned harder.

"MOM!" WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

She stopped a moment.

"First of all, don't raise your voice at me. Second, I have told you time and time again that we do not slam doors in this house".

"So, you're taking my door?!", the daughter cried incredulously. "You can't do that! This is my room!"

"No, dear. It is my room in my house. You reside here because I love you and I want you here. But you must respect the rules and the homeowner".

The screw gave a little, just a small twist, and she dug in harder trying not to scratch the surface of the wooden door.

"What about my privacy?", her daughter cried plaintively

"You forfeited your privacy when the pitch of your voice became loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear the discussion".

The stubborn screw turned just a little more and popped out.

"Mom, I'm fifteen and...!"

"Yes, dear. I was there", she interrupted, starting to work on the third screw.

"I NEED MY PRIVACY!"

The third screw came away easily. The wood must be worn thin there, she thought.

"Mom!! Are you listening to me?"

"Mm-hmm, I have excellent hearing".

The fourth screw turned and she stopped to rub her achy hands. She knew these tiny aches and pains were just the beginning of the arthritic pain to come. It was the family legacy. Her mother had suffered the debilitating effects and her mother before her. She climbed down the step-ladder carefully bracing herself against the wall. Then she sat on the lower step.

"I'm not staying here without a door!", her daughter yelled.

"As you wish."

The daughter yanked a duffle bag out of the closet and began stuffing it with clothing from her drawers. She grumbled I hate you, under her breath, just loud enough for her mother to hear.

"I'm not staying here!" the daughter adamantly repeated.

Her mother began to work on the bottom hinge. The door was already hanging precariously against the opposite wall. It wouldn't take much for the whole thing to come toppling down.
The daughter grabbed her toiletries stuffing them on top of the clothes she'd haphazardly packed. Then she checked her secret stash. Finding nothing there she checked under the lining of her jewelry box. Nothing there either. She stood in the center of the room holding her bag waiting for her mother to give in.

The mother unscrewed the second and third screws. The fourth screw held fast but tore the wood in the door leaving a gaping tear. Darn, I was hoping to avoid that, she thought. Now I'll have to repair it. Or buy a new door. She didn't look up at the sound of her daughter's footsteps as they crossed the bedroom and headed down the carpeted stairs. I wonder if she realizes she has no place to go. She listened to the front door open. There was a pause as she waited for it to close. And waited...and waited...

"Mom, can I have sixty-three dollars for a bus ticket?", her daughter hollered up the stairs.

"No. You may not."

She heard a small, barely perceptible shuffle of feet. Then a disgruntled sigh.

"Can I come back home now?"

"The mother looked at the single screw holding the heavy door.

"Yes", she said quietly. "I suppose you'd better".


Writing Prompt
Write a story that starts with this sentence: The door slammed, echoing down the long hall.

Don't add to the sentence. The catch is this must be flash fiction. So the story should be between 100 and 1,000 words.
The Door Slammed
Contest Winner

Author Notes
It's difficult living in a world between old enough for independence when you've been brought up dependent, and not ready because you still throw tantrums. Sadly, too many little girls let their anger and will lead them out the door and never find their way back because of their pride. Too many overwhelmed parents release them because they are exhausted from the fight. God help them all to stop a minute, breathe, and think before they act.
Pays one point and 2 member cents. Artwork by Renate-Bertodi at FanArtReview.com

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