"DON'T GO, MOMMY," she sobs, as I close the door to her room, my heart seizing as the door goes click. I make a beeline for the stairs, to hide in the part of the house where I can't hear.
Despite studying fiction undergrad, I mostly write personal essays these days (kind of like how no one does anything related to their undergraduate major), but occasionally, the mood hits, and I write a short story. (My alter ego Melody Bell is fiction, of course, but she feels more like a performance than a piece of writing.) Anyway, here's a short story I wrote.