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Write about someone who is slowly forgetting their mother tongue or losing their language.

Posted in Character on Dec 16, 2022

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✍️ 22 stories

Schweissfuss

Shortlisted for Contest #177 ⭐️

There’s no sweeter sound in the world than your name.Until it doesn’t work for you.   I started as Sean Murphy but ended up as Albert Schweissfuss . This is my tale of an immigrant’s life. =====……”There’s no future here for a young lad” Ma stated the obvious. I was fourteen, full of romantic ideas of a successful future. Ours was just another family cursed with extreme poverty. She couldn’t afford to show any pity, she had to encourage me to leave home, though her heart must have been breaking.………” You...

38 likes 56 comments 56
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Lost for Words

Submitted to Contest #177

It was twenty-five years ago when my old pal, left The Big Smoke. Pete had struggled to get regular work as a snapper in London and had nothing to lose by accepting a staff photographer post with a Spanish newspaper. It’s only for a year, he’d said, enjoying one last pint with me the night before he left. You might meet the love of your life, I said You’re joking? A year will be enough for me. Clinking glasses together, we laughed.I couldn’t stand all the excitement, he said, frowning. Neither of us believed it’d wor...

29 likes 27 comments 27
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Words for Sunshine, Words for Snow

Submitted to Contest #177

The first English word my grandfather learned was “sunshine.” He was six-years-old and standing in an empty apartment with his mother. She was wearing black, because her husband had died the year before of stomach cancer. She would continue to wear black until she remarried, but that wouldn’t be for another eight years. My great-grandmother did not love her husband, but when he died, her life was upended. Marriage was meant to be your security and your comfort. Her name was Dasha, and she was from Lida, which is west of Minsk in Belarus. ...

26 likes 20 comments 20
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Made in Bulgaria

Shortlisted for Contest #177 ⭐️

CW: Brief reference to sexual assaultMy mother likes to say "I was made in Bulgaria, but born in New York." She flew to the States in the summer after the Wall came down, wearing a trench coat in July to cover the bump I made in her belly. Sweat beaded from her forehead, pooled in her armpits before leaking down her triceps and ribs. She passed the airport security agent. He eyed her with knowing contempt. He was stuck there, in his booth, in this land of in-opportunity, destined to remain in a country crumbling from within like Bulgari...

26 likes 17 comments 17
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A Tale of Two Mountains

Submitted to Contest #177

The beach was ash, a loose volcanic dust that slid treacherously under combat boots already filled with sweat, when suddenly the verdant dimpled butter pat that was Mount Suribachi disappeared. Instead, Ashkii was digging his bare heels into the fine loamy sand spread against the cliffs and riverbeds of Shiprock, New Mexico. The peaks of Tsé Bitʼaʼí towered over all in distant benediction. Junipers clustered like sheep in the folds of rocky hills. Smooth stones radiated heat in the sun; in the shadows cast by striped rock formations they sen...

20 likes 19 comments 19
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Helen, me, and our false friends

Submitted to Contest #177

That can't be her. She takes the train to work. Helen sprints as soon as she sees me and kisses me on the right cheek and then on the left. "Grève, there's no train". She means "strike". Last night, a union representative wearing an orange vest and a hard hat answered a local television journalist's questions about their decision not to work today and at the weekend. Picketing is the French railroad workers' favourite sport; they are the world's champions.Unlike during the pre-COVID pandemic, there's no queue; only eight of us are lining up ...

12 likes 10 comments 10
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The Factor I Once Understood

S N

Submitted to Contest #177

Each word spoken ignites in my ear, warm and wet. “Oh - kay, Abuela. I get it, but do you need to yell? I hear you.” I glance at the rearview mirror and mouth ‘help me.’ No use. Conversations in the back of strangers' cars have become playground power trips for Hispanic seniors. No sane rideshare driver would disagree with a chancleta armed granny. “Mija, I have a point. Right, Josepi?” “Abuela, it’s Joseph and you leave him out of this. No tiene nada que ver.” “Oh, now tú hablas español. Miss, ‘I don’t want to speak spanish.’” She...

11 likes 2 comments 2
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Losing My Religion

Submitted to Contest #177

I remember waking up, and thought it was a bad dream. I yelled for Ima, meaning mom in Hebrew.  “My poor little baby.” She was sobbing.  I was feeling upset, as Ima’s tears were dripping slowly onto my blue shirt.  Slowly Ima was trying to say something, but it was hard for her to get the words completely out with all the tears and sadness she was feeling.  Then, Ima took a breath, and stopped crying for a second and spoke, “my poor baby, we were forced to pack up and go to a prison, because we were Jewish, we weren’t all...

10 likes 2 comments 2
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Fragments

Submitted to Contest #177

I am… Sod it! I’m… How old am I? I know I’m not very old, not very old at all. I also know that this…  …should… …not… …be… HAPPENING TO ME! It’s come early to me. How lucky am I? I jumped the queue and now I get to fall apart little by little, and bit by bit before everyone else. I can’t even remember what it is that is doing this to me. How funny is that!? It’s leprosy of the brain is what it is. No one can see what is happening to me until I open my mouth. In the end they’ll see the ravages of this horrible basta...

9 likes 14 comments 14
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I dream,

Submitted to Contest #177

Within moments the small craft was lifted high into the sky. A pillar of smoke from the exhaust trail spreading out as it rocket out of sight. A lush green planet could be seen. The oceans vast and fruitful, life exploding out of every inch as the small rocket barreled out of orbit. The lone pilot watched in horror as lights lit up across the beautiful land that once held his home. As the oceans crumbled and cracks seemed to rise from the pressure of their moon colliding with their stratosphere. Fingers against the tiny little capsule’s glas...

8 likes 3 comments 3
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An Exile's Return

Submitted to Contest #177

My name is Zarius, and in times long past I was counted among the Pantheon of Gods that reside on Mount Olympus. But that was many ages ago, before I made the mistake that turned out to be the most significant of my entire life. Back then, I was simply a young boy who was brimming with curiosity and aspiration. I desired nothing more than to establish my worth in the eyes of the Gods and to be counted among those they see as their own. Thus, when I spotted Zeus's thunderbolt lying unattended on a table, I was unable to resist the desire t...

8 likes 1 comment 1
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Another respectable piece of my heart

Submitted to Contest #177

-I'm proud to say that I and my family, like all the British people for all the generations since we lost the second world war and were made to realise the folly of inequality and oppression in any form, are a proud part of the working class. Because it turns out, actually doing humble, generous work for other people and each other is what makes a people classy. We once had a reason to call ourselves great and united, and we still mostly are, even if our temporary bosses in sitting are very thick and bluffed their way through their history c...

8 likes 4 comments 4
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Is there any point in speaking?

Submitted to Contest #177

English only! That was the rule on Persephone. Of course it wasn’t always called Persephone. We called it Meirth. Then the ships landed from another world and told us we lived on Persephone. That was when my grandpa’s grandpa was a boy. They outlawed all our languages. It was too confusing, they said. It would make life easier if we just spoke one language. We’d find we could express ourselves better, understand each other better. Of course, people still spoke their own languages in secret. But by the time it wasn’t illegal anymore, Meirth w...

8 likes 2 comments 2
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THAT WORD, JUST THAT

Submitted to Contest #177

THAT WORD , JUST THAT When she had left her country, so much disgusted and embittered, many years ago, swearing that she would never set foot there again, the thought that she could forget her MOTHER TONGUE had not even for an instant crossed her mind. She had worried about getting by in the country where she was going, and also learning that language. A Hungarian writer she loved said that the only HOMELAND was the language, meaning above all the mother tongue. She felt so homeless ( stateless) that she could not even dwell on such a...

7 likes 7 comments 7
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Finding your Soul

Submitted to Contest #177

Finding your soul Above New York City, a lone mourning dove glides past colossal skyscrapers. Flying over and through unfinished buildings, in passage towards Central Park. The elegant bird landed gracefully on the umber branch, causing amber foliage to fall. The beautiful avifauna walked to the edge of the branch, and shed a single tear that sparkled as it fell towards the ground. *SPLAT* Leonard sat up, startled awake by what he assumed was a raindrop. What he awoke to was far more startling. He was on a bench in a park he had no rec...

7 likes 3 comments 3
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