"Ten Places I Have Lived with Violence" by Wanda Freeman

 – her bangs drawn, a failed curtain over throbbing black eyes

Where he became another person and slammed me to the floor before I escaped, slept in a hotel, and returned to roses and remorse.

Wanda Freeman lives in Greensboro, North Carolina. She is an award-winning writer, editor, and journalist whose literary work has appeared in The MacGuffin (Schoolcraft College, Livonia, Michigan) and Cellar Roots (Eastern Michigan University, Ypsilanti). She grew up in New Orleans, where she learned to cook and second-line. She holds a bachelor’s degree in English literature from the University of New Orleans and a master’s degree in creative writing from EMU. She is a member of the North Carolina Writers’ Network and enjoys performing her work at open mic events.

Author’s Talk

Wanda Freeman

Like many of my stories, this one started with a prompt. The assignment was to write a flash fiction story in list form and give it context through the title. I plunged into this compelling challenge, starting with some pretty uncompelling real-life lists, like “Things I’ve Used as Bookmarks.” 

Eventually I decided to work on a list that has crossed my mind for years, occasionally landing on a sticky note or envelope: All the places I have called home. My husband and I have lived together in sixteen places since 1988, and my childhood and pre-husband homes bring the tally to twenty-five. 

With sheer length its most engaging feature, however, my new list proved … listless.

Then one day my husband and I discovered someone had rifled through our cars in the driveway and stolen our allergy pills. This triggered a host of memories of crime or violence we had experienced or witnessed in previous homes. 

Suddenly, my list had context! And a title! 

My new story practically wrote itself – and grew too long. In an act of triage, I trimmed the fictional and the least-thematic to arrive at a succinct ten items in 750 words – fit to submit for publication as a flash work. 

A flash fiction work. 

I had every intention of hiding forever behind that fiction label, as I’ve done with previous based-on-a-true-story pieces. But somehow, this was different. The opportunity to share, not merely publish, my personal experiences pulled me out of hiding. Reading this story in public has been scary, but the response by people it touches has been gratifying, even comforting. So, for the first time in my writing life, I’m admitting in print: Yes, all this really happened. To me. To us.—Wanda Freeman