What’s in a name? (not-quite a five-minute #freewrite)

They had always said that she was special. Indeed, ‘special’ was even her middle name thanks to classless bogans who honestly thought that ‘Kailyn Tequila Special Edwards’ would be a name that would serve her well for the rest of her life.

They were probably drunk at the time, or stoned, just as they had been during the birth and naming of her ten siblings, but this one was her name and not a day went by where she wished she could afford to change it.

Why was it so expensive? If only the paperwork had a checkbox where if your name was the result of unfortunate parents, the change would be offered gratis.

Fingers snapped and she refocused her gaze on Henry –Henry Davidson– and no absurd middle name that she was aware of. Now that was a name granted by respectable parents. She did not deserve him. With a name like hers, she was destined to meet and procreate ten times over with a Hairry Stooge McHouso. Thanks mum and dad.

“Kai?” Henry’s warm voice washed over her as he took her hands. “You blacked out for a moment. I said that you were special to me… I was kind of hoping for a response.”

Kailyn offered a small smile and wrenched her hands away, then guilty clambered to her feet as he hid his confusion.

“I know you mean well, Henry; but I really can’t stand being referred to as ‘special,'” she glanced down at her phone and shoved it into her pocket. “And if I don’t leave now I’ll be late for the school pickup.”

She inwardly winced. ‘The school pickup.’ Henry hadn’t met the boy yet and at her rate of self-loathing, likely never would. At least she only had the one child, unlike all the other single mothers at the school who seemed to pop them out every year despite their so-called ‘single’ status. Bogans. She would not be one of them; she would not repeat the cycle.

“I can drive you.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Kailyn rolled her eyes. “We’ve had this argument before and there’s no time for it now. I’ve been fucked over too many times and I won’t have my son get hurt meeting random men only for them to disappear.”

“Random men,” Henry snorted. “It’s been a year, Kai. You need to get over this inexplicable fear that I’m–”

“There’s no time for this.”

“Kai, I haven’t even met your family yet. You met my mother last month. She thinks you’re fantastic. Keeps asking… questions.”

“Your mother can keep asking,” Kailyn sighed. “Meeting mine will only lower your opinion of me. If it’s not already low. I have to go. Call you later.”


She walked away without a backward glance, hating herself further with each step she took. ‘Damaged goods,’ others would call her; she would personally say that she was simply a bitch. There was nothing left inside her hardened shell and she didn’t understand why Henry even bothered anymore.



Hullo! It’s been over a week since my last post. Woops.

I was hurriedly editing grammatical errors in Half Past the Moonfall. Got halfway through before I took a chill pill and got over it. Uploaded the updated copy anyway. Even though it was only half updated. Then my partner flew in from the US, it was my son’s birthday, Mother’s Day, and I couldn’t really find the time to write anything. Vengeance took a bit of a backseat this week also. Ugh. It’s never going to be finished. (Not with that attitude.)

Anyway. This wasn’t quite a five-minute #freewrite, but was brought about by today’s prompt which is — special. πŸ™‚ First thing that flew into mind was a name and how so many people out there name their kids ludicrous things that will affect them for the rest of their lives. “Hurr, hurr. I named my son Batman! ABCDE! Optimus Prime! Sheyvayekaye! Tequila Sunrise! 4Real!”

You can find today’s prompt/challenge at the following link:

And today’s header image is CC0 and by DANNY G on Unsplash.

Thanks for reading! πŸ™‚



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