I am Nia

         I am Nia, and I am still here.

         New day. Same –

         You wake up to his smell of rot and dung and force a smile on your face. You bear his kiss on lips gone cold with the know he was with her last night. You bask in his words of charm and tell you the lie that he still wants you the same. You want to keep on the act of the wife ‘til death do you part.

         Still, the sound grows loud in your head, where you want to scream lest the dark chunks of ice freeze in your heart.

         I am Nia, and I am still here.

         You try for the sake of the child; born from a night - you hoped - was shared love on sheets made from silk and lace, while words of sweet nots soared in the air. You wept with joy, in his arms, long after his seed was spent. You knew, then, you were loved.

         Now, luck is on your side if his arms ever find yours.

         I am Nia, and I am still here.

         The depth of your fears must not be shown; not to those who wait to pounce and gloat. You know the tales told at your back; of how he is not in your league. He could have any but your kind; you know…the hue of your skin.

         Too dark they say. Just too dark.

         Pay them no mind, my dear, he once said, with warmth in his smile. They do not know you like I do. I love you, my queen. Do not doubt it.

         Yet you fail to tell him of the threats in the mail, that you burn in the fire, or how you scrub off the slurs you find etched on your car. You shy from the truth of not being at that tea bash down the street, for you did not get a phone call to join in the fest like the rest.

         I am Nia, and I am still here.

         Still, it is hard to tell your son he is not strange when he cries in school as the kids laugh and make fun of his hue. You tell him to be brave and be proud just as you are of him, for in due time, they will come to think him just as cool as his dad.

         But how can he be when he tells you he saw Dad with her at the park on that day?

         He gave Aunt May a long hug, Mom. I think he likes Aunt May so much.

         Oh, too much, my dear. Just too much.

         I am Nia…I should not be here.

         The tears leave streaks, on your cheeks, as you wipe the steam in slow strokes. You stare at the glass where fierce brown eyes stare right back with a firm dare.

         Ah, but you have done your best for ten long years. You have put up with so much; wept for so long that you know what you must do now. You have put it off for far too long. You, and your boy, need a life of peace. You know you can make it. You do not need that man ‘til death do you part.

         When he is gone (alas we know where), you pack a few things in the still of the night. Your son is sad, but seems to know that this means a lot to the both of you as he goes to wait in the car.

         You take off the ring – it did cost a bit much – and leave a short note. It is the least you can do.

         I am Nia, you say - so very loud - in words, and I choose not to be here.





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Word Count: 632
Prompt: Write a story or poem using only one-syllable words.
Written For: "The Writer's Cramp"