Hanging
A really short story by Achir Bulan
This big tree is my second home. I spend my time here, I’ve been here since a long time ago—a few years from now. It is so peaceful here. No more noises of my father beating my mom nor the bullies passing my house and throwing some rocks and calling me a loser. It has been so peaceful lately. My new kind of entertainment is probably watching the new neighbours living their life — the front house, a small family recently moved there, a working dad, a trad wife, and a little boy. The little boy—he is a really cute kid, whenever I stick out my tongue he always laughs, not with his mom though. I think she despises me, but does she really know me? No reason for her to hate me to be honest, she always looks so tense whenever they’re outside.
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I always hear them talking, they kind of repeat the same conversation whenever their eyes see around here.
“Mommy, why’s there a girl hanging by her neck on the tree?” Said the child, "Honey, there’s no one on the tree, let’s go get inside."
She always looks so concerned.
