Sparrow
My attempt at Real Poetic's Secret Writer Challenge, you can find it here if you would like to participate:
The sun was setting high in the molasses sky, I caressed the curve of my belly. The scar on my arm from the beating by Hogeboom burned like an insignia; the pain pulsating through my body. She kicked right then. Hard in the stomach. In that moment, I understood that she felt it too. Lord, long before her eyes could see she was already blinded. I don’t know if it was the kick or the pain that made me do it but it struck me hard like a hammer, “Her life ain’t be made for no manacles”.