The Club

The Club

A Story by GwenLark

A short story on inclusion


One might be forgiven in thinking that all any child ever wants is to be part of something. Of course, feeling the warm embrace of a peer or a much-loved relative is always something that should be cherished and longed for. But, sometimes, it isn’t.

The Club is never somewhere you want to find yourself. You’re there on behalf of another. Most times you don’t remember the defining preamble on which your membership is based. Or worse, you can. Some members have become so good at pretending that some it never happened at all. Believing your own fantasy that you had a happy and uneventful childhood thank you very much.

It’s at your inaugural ceremony into The Club that all the cherished and longed-for moments with others change. They are all tinged with something else. Something recollective. Something you are trying you damn hardest to repel.

Your membership is bought and paid for.

In currency you never dreamed of parting with.

And you’re in for life. No refunds.

No matter how much you cry yourself to sleep at night or how many times you pray to a God you aren’t sure exists anymore or how many times you try and write her back to life.

It’s done. It’s gone.

All you are left with now are memories of hospital rooms, of hair on a pillow after another nauseous and sleepless night, of head-tilting relatives perching at the end of a bed you used to spend your Sunday mornings on.

You never choose The Club, it chooses you.

You find the odd compatible soul on drunken nights in pub toilets or in forums online; other members of The Club. You would be lying if you said the news of their existing memberships didn’t fill you with that fleeting glow of hope to have someone, at long last, that might just understand some strand of heartache you hide everyday.

The new members; that’s where you anchor yourself now.

You, after all, are a veteran.

You know the script.

You’ve learned the lines.

You know what to say, how to act, how to listen.

Time to teach.

All you have to do is lower that shield, lift that mask. Show yourself for what you really are inside. Show them that losing their parent young doesn’t mean they are abandoned. Show them that, even though they feel like it, they aren’t alone.

Because, after all, in our Club, that’s one thing you’ll never be.

© 2019 GwenLark

Author's Note

Please ignore grammar and spelling

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Added on May 16, 2019
Last Updated on May 16, 2019
Tags: teacher, parent, mother, the club, inclusion, club, death



Glasgow, Scotland, United Kingdom

Just exploring my boundaries. I love writing and I love reading other's creations. more..

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