Hello! Have missed the last two write ins, the pen refused to move. So am happy to be back. This is a response to the prompt word: scribble. For the record, I am a nice older sister. Honestly.
Tantrum
The words flew from her, screaming and stamping, a proper full on tantrum. She picked the plate up, the one my mother had said was for me, my special plate with the watership down style hares circling the border. She threw it against the window. Bang, the glass cracked and the plate in pieces. I was ten years old. I pulled her by her hand, and enclosed my teeth around the veins in her skinny wrist. I bit down.
I didn’t break the skin, only the red marks of my teeth left behind and her shocked tears. Little sisters can be so annoying. She ruined the yellow fairground of my bedroom walls, scribbling with black crayon over the pattern. When I locked her outside I wasn’t trying to hurt her, I just needed a break. Some small space of silence before Mum got back from the shops. She often popped out, for fags or groceries, I remember, we had run out of bread. I made myself scrambled eggs, like my granma did for me, the quivering pile of whites and yolks mashed together, a splash of milk. I watched the gloopy liquid thicken and rise like a balloon expanding from someone’s lips. The beeping sound continuous as the minute on the microwave ran out, and the single bark of a dog outside.
beccaaudra 
It feels a bit like the viewpoint is jumping around, popping in on one memory then leaping to another without any transition – and I like that. It makes it feel more like a person’s memory, muddled and confused but vivid on things that seemed important at the time – the plate smashing less important than the eggs cooking, and that sort of thing. I’m not sure if it’d work for a longer pieced, but I think it works well here.
Thanks Fallible :D. I struggle with separating out time periods, so it is a skipping around piece but I’m glad you agree that compressing it into a short prose piece means it doesn’t damage it as it would a longer one. x
I love the relationship with the sister. So realistic.
I was expecting something dramatic to happen when she was cooking.
Hey hun, yeah I think I felt when she was cooking that something horrible was happening. But I didn’t make it explicit, it was just a feeling. The relationship is complied out of a mix of fiction and fact, glad it comes across as real!
I can’t quite make out what happened, but whatever it was, doesn’t
seem good news.
I liked the fact that big sister made herself some eggs – did the mixing and the microwave beeping drown out the sound of little sister crying outside? If they don’t kill each other first I’m sure they will be friends when they grow up!
I think it is a distraction activity yes! Aw that’s sweet Elaine, I like the optimism :D.
‘a balloon expanding from someone’s lips’ is terrific. Something ominous does seem to have happened since she wasn’t trying to hurt her by putting her outside. I like the idea that she needs some space. That comes across really well.
I reread the second paragraph and it grew on me. I can remember moments at home where I lashed out somehow–by yelling, breaking things or biting wrists–and those moments, especially if they occurred when authority was out shopping, were always followed by some calm prosaic.
Like cooking eggs.
Loved this – maybe think about either breaking some ideas up into separate paragraphs or slamming it all together to really get that murky memory feeling.
also, this is just great “I wasn’t trying to hurt her, I just needed a break”