Ring Tones
by Mat Twassel
Copyright© 2025 by Mat Twassel
No sooner had her daughter arrived home from State for Thanksgiving break than Mary noticed Grace’s nose ring. How could anyone miss it! I’ve failed as a parent, she thought. Sure, raising Grace from age 11 after Rob decamped with his secretary had been a challenge, but she hadn’t realized ... An utter failure! She decided to hold her tongue.
But at bedtime she could no longer keep quiet. “What are you, a cow?”
Grace smiled a taunting sort of smile, lowered the bodice of her nightie to show a nipple free of jewelry, and said, “Moo,” then padded down the hall to her bedroom.
Mary couldn’t sleep. How could her sweet Grace have turned so sinful so soon?
Sometime past midnight Mary heard a strange noise. A plaintive cry. A squeal. A muffled moan. Maybe an owl having snatched a bunny. She got out of bed and cautiously made her way down the hall to Grace’s room. Quiet. She eased open the door. Moonlight shot through a slit in the curtains illuminating Grace’s childhood bed.
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