[FTM] 5.6: Fic challenge
Dec. 27th, 2008 06:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deep_red_bellsMen in fairy tales have specific roles. The rescuer, the villain, the hapless body on the sidelines, and so on. What are the roles of the men in your muse’s life?
The road to hell is paved with good intentions. With birthday cards and promises in ink that prove to be empty. Visits and weekends that never happen. Next time, he promises. Next month. Next year. Phone calls that never are. Such good intentions towards a blameless child, conceived by accident, a mistake, something shameful to be tucked away in the corner and eventually ignored. The cards and letters that appear in the mailbox become increasingly sporadic. He's gotten married. He has children of his own, children he can be proud of, that he can christen and give his name to, sign up for soccer, attend dance recitals. Children he doesn't have to be ashamed of. Legitimate children. Of course he has no time to write anymore. Of course. No one expects him to. He sends a check every month, right on time. Isn't that plenty? Isn't that enough?
Good intentions are just that, good intentions. Small enough to be tucked into a shoe box, shoved beneath a bed and forgotten.
Just like she was.
The road to hell is paved with good intentions. With birthday cards and promises in ink that prove to be empty. Visits and weekends that never happen. Next time, he promises. Next month. Next year. Phone calls that never are. Such good intentions towards a blameless child, conceived by accident, a mistake, something shameful to be tucked away in the corner and eventually ignored. The cards and letters that appear in the mailbox become increasingly sporadic. He's gotten married. He has children of his own, children he can be proud of, that he can christen and give his name to, sign up for soccer, attend dance recitals. Children he doesn't have to be ashamed of. Legitimate children. Of course he has no time to write anymore. Of course. No one expects him to. He sends a check every month, right on time. Isn't that plenty? Isn't that enough?
Good intentions are just that, good intentions. Small enough to be tucked into a shoe box, shoved beneath a bed and forgotten.
Just like she was.
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