The End

T-H-E  E-N-D.  Johnny sat back with a sense of relief and satisfaction. He read the words once more. The End. It looked so right. So perfect. He had made a good start to the story, and now all he had to do was figure out where everything else would go. 


His mother would have been delighted, he knew. She loved when he wrote stories for her.  Especially when he used her name, for one of the main characters. Once he had called a five-masted pirate ship 'The Good Ship Mary', and it had brought smiles all round; an extra helping of love and comfort before going to bed.


Then there was the time he had written about a wonderful pig. He had called it Mary as well. This time it was because he was genuinely fond of the pig, and wanted to show everybody how much he loved it. His mother had not been amused.


— Is that what you think of me then? A pig? Is that the thanks I get, for all the years of
wiping your arse, and putting up with your tears when there was nothing wrong with you at all. Well thanks a lot!


And then she sulked. And little Johnny had not yet learned how best to deal with a mother's rejection, so he did nothing.


Johnny looked again at the two words, and how they sat so comfortably together on the page. The End. Side by side like mother and child. Like they used to be. 


After one last lingering examination, he rolled them up together, and tossed them in the bin. Maybe, some other day . . . . 

©Copyright Niall OConnor

Images borrowed from the Web

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