Azura R

United States

I am 15 and live in Maryland. I have a passion for writing, reading, dancing, and surprisingly iced tea.

Message to Readers

Any feedback would be highly welcomed. Please be as critical you think is necessary. This is my first published piece of writing, and I would like to compare it to my later works in the future

Thoughts from a Picky Eater

March 31, 2015



I sit here wondering when this moment will end. Will I live past this day or will this be the death of my eight year old life? It stares at me with its glossy eyes and pearly white skin. I swirl the fish around with my fork. The skin flakes off and falls next to the mashed potatoes. It is consumed by a mountain of white clouds. May be she won't notice the missing piece. May be she will say, “Good work, Rebecca, you’re in the clean plate club. Here’s your dessert,” and never realized that the tilapia is still on the plate, not in my stomach. But she won’t. She never does.

She will probably see the fish and potato concoction and console Daddy about what to do with me. He will smile like he is on my side of the argument. He will come away from the sink where he is washing dishes because everyone has finished eating. He will crouch down so he is on the same level as I am, and he will say, “Now Becca you we just want you to try the fish. You do not have to like it, but you will never know until you take that first bite.” I will believe him for the first few seconds lifting my fork filled with disgusting fish particles to my mouth. They are most likely right. I mean Little Erin ate all of his mashed fish and is still enjoying the chunks that are on his face. But then reality will set in. It is all a trick to fool me into eating poison. They want to see if they can kill me with the nasty food before they can send me off somewhere. They probably never liked me as much as Little Erin. They thought they could change me into one of them by eating the fish, and tonight is the last attempt before sending me to some school to be trained into eating robots. May be they did love me once upon a time, but then they learned how much I hated fish and decided Little Erin would be a good replacement.

I must change their minds. I don’t want to leave my family. They must still have some love for me. I pick up my fork for the second time. Mommy and Little Erin have already left the kitchen. Daddy is only paying attention to the dishes. The fork is coming closer and closer. I open my mouth hoping I don’t regret it. It goes in in one big gulp. It is kind of soft and sort of crispy but it’s not bad. I do not think this is poison. It actually tastes pretty good. I take another big bite waiting for the disgusting moment to happen. Nothing. I scoop up more and more pieces with my fork until all that is left is the mashed potatoes. I was wrong. Fish is amazing. I look up from the almost clean plate and see Daddy smiling right at me with one those proudest-fathers-in-the world smiles.

“Daddy, Can I have some more fish please?” I ask.

“Sure, as long as you eat your potatoes first,” he says back. I look at him puzzled. I will not eat the potatoes. I imagine potatoes taste like teddy-bear stuffing mashed together and mixed with rotten milk until it turns creamy.  Why would he want me to eat such a disgusting thing like potatoes unless he was trying to poison me? May be my family really does want to send me off to a horrible school.



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  • March 31, 2015 - 7:36pm (Now Viewing)

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