Here’s a short piece submitted for Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers’ weekly photo prompt. If you’d like to submit a piece, click on that link for more info. Thanks to PJ for hosting this and also for providing our photo prompt this week.
If you’d like to read more stories, click on the froggy icon after this piece.
When I prayed at night, I used to stick in a request that one of the Beatles would come and ask me to marry. I didn’t even care which one. When that didn’t happen, I decided to enter the convent. I mean, I’d already decided to marry Jesus but, if one of the Beatles had proposed, I might have changed my mind.
It’s not like I didn’t have any other choices. I did. I could have stayed on the Bayou, married, and had six kids. I could have moved to New Orleans, found a secretarial job, and hung out in the coffee shops with the local artists. Maybe I could have taken night courses at Loyola . (My parents thought I was nuts, and flat-out forbid that choice). Or, I could have become a nun. Regular, run of the mill decision-making processes teenagers go through during high school.
The afternoon I finally decided, it was raining. My best friend and I sat at the picture window in her parents’ home. We were in this together.