Brave Little Girl

This story is a response to Sunday Scribblings writing prompt number 193: brave. It's just a little idea; I hope you like it.

Julie hated to be called brave.

"There's a brave little girl," her Mother always said before the needles and the operations. A brave little girl was what it meant to feel a lot of pain and not be able to do anything about it.

"She's so brave," the other adults whispered to her parents, thinking she couldn't hear. It's my bones that don't work properly, she thought, not my ears. She pretended to ignore them, and wheeled her chair to her bedroom to cry. To be brave meant to be helpless and pathetic. Brave girls were pitied, and whispered about.

"I just want to say from all Australians, you are so brave," said the hyped-up burly sports reporter, right after Julie was awarded her Paralympic gold medal. The brave little Aussie girl in the wheelchair, who captured the heart of a nation, buried her fist in the reporter's face, knocking him cold to the ground.

"She is such a bitch," said the office-workers as they gathered in their kitchenettes for their morning coffee breaks.

Once in a while

See here for a six-sentence story I wrote called Once in a while.

I've had some feedback that the six sentences stories are not as popular. If you want something longer, see my previous post.