“But, they are ugly,” Julia fumed, slamming her foot down for emphasis. Her tiny hands curled at her hips and her lower lip seemed to protrude much further than should have been possible for someone so small.
“Oh, honey, when you are older perhaps you will change your mind.”
Julia’s glare was the only response her mother received.
“It’s how we tracked my growth, too. And my mother’s before me. It’s a tradition that has been passed down for many generations. Think of what that means. Think of what you are now a part of.”
Julia was not swayed. She loved her purple walls exactly as they were: purple, unblemished, and perfect. The graphite etchings from her mom’s pencil, height and date, stood out hideously against the rest of the brilliant hue.
“They are like scars. Horrible. Ugly. Scars.”
Julia’s mom sighed and smiled, “Yes, darling, a history in scars. Those often lead to the best stories. Trust me.”
The little girl looked from her mom to the blemish on her wall and frowned. She wanted to trust her mom, but she couldn’t get passed the defilement of her beautiful painted walls. She shook her head, her pig-tails bouncing back and forth, and pouted further.
Seeing her daughter distress over something so trivial brought a smile to Julia’s mom’s face. Julia would grow, and in time, she would understand the importance of those marks. In time she would learn that the world is perfect, and there is plenty of beauty to be found in mistakes, blemishes, and scars.
“Come along, little miss frowny, and let’s see if we can find some ice cream to put a smile back on your face. What do you say?”
Julia looked up at her mom hopefully, without having forgotten the injustice of what had just occurred in her room. The frown did disappear, though, and her eyes lit up with equal parts mischief and giddiness. A small smile appeared at the corner of her lips and she couldn’t keep from bobbing her head up and down. Ice cream would definitely turn the situation around.
This bit of silliness brought to you in response to one of this week’s prompt words from the Inspiration Monday Writing Challenge:
There are none. Read the prompts, get inspired, write something. No word count minimum or maximum. You don’t have to include the exact prompt in your piece, and you can interpret the prompt(s) any way you like.
No really; I need rules!
Okay; write 200-500 words on the prompt of your choice. You may either use the prompt as the title of your piece or work it into the body of your piece. You must complete it before 6 pm CST on the Monday following this post.
A HISTORY IN SCARS
SAY NO MORE
BETWEEN THE TEETH
A CRASH AGAIN
23 thoughts on “a scarred wall”
You should revisit Julia 12 years from now so we can see what this incident turned her into…
(Maybe she leaves a scoop of rocky road on all her victims!)
Okay. You got it. I’m put it on my calendar right now. 12/19/2025, expect a new post regarding Julia and all her imperfect glory.
I wish I could come up with stories as well as you do. Very cute piece you have here.
Thank you! 😀 I’m glad you liked it.
I have scars can I have some ice cream??
Purple room/graphite scar/beauty/stories in scars/ imagery and everything to do with that metaphor =fantastic.
Yep, there are very few problems that ice cream can’t solve
I remember a commenter once saying that she wished to write like you when she grew up…I remember saying I agreed…
This will be my second time echoing that sentiment…
I liked the way your story had a deeper message in it too 🙂
Thank you for the high praise. I think you are excellent writer too. 😀
How sweet – and what an insight; to compare height marks to scars. Our lives are a combination of pain and growth.
Would any of you beleive me if I say that the growing aspect, the pains of life, was just a happy coincidence in writing this? 😛 At first, I really was just talking about the scars on the walls…
[…] DJMatticus […]
Lovely description. I see my youngest granddaughter in your story. Thanks
Thanks for the comment. A lot of this was based on the pencil marks on the wall of my childhood home. Though, I flipped it a bit, because I was always happy to see the progression of the marks.
We all have those hash marks of growth. Mine stopped at 5ft, son was so happy when he was 12 and grew taller than me and taller and taller. Love your dialogue!
I was very happy the day my hash mark was notched above the highest my brothers ever got. 😀 We had both long since passed our mom, but neither of us ever quite caught up to dad.
[…] A Scarred Wall […]
I enjoyed that. Very visual. Ice cream makes everything better. 🙂
Agreed. Ice cream is one of our most valuable staples in the kingdom.
Glad you liked the story. Thanks for the comment.