Weep A While Longer
I’ve decided to participate in Rachael Ritchey‘s awesome weekly prompt- BlogBattle. I came across it through a very dear friend’s blog- Phoenix Grey. You can visit Rachael’s blog to find out more about #blogbattle- Writing Rachael Ritchey
- 1000 words max
- fictional tale (or true if you really want)
- PG (no more than PG-13) Content – let’s keep this family friendly! (this week will be difficult, I know. That’s a somewhat violent word! Remember, use your imagination. 🙂 )
- Your story must contain the word(s) from the theme and/or be centered around the theme in a way that shows it is clearly related
- Go for the entertainment value!
- Use the hashtag #BlogBattle, put a link back to your #BlogBattle Short Story in the comments section of this post, and/or include a link to this post in your own blog post (it creates a “ping-back” which will alert me and our friends to your #BlogBattle post)
- Have fun!
BlogBattle is based on the concept of one-word prompt writing. This week’s BlogBattle word prompt: Feather.
Here’s my entry for this week:
Weep A While Longer
Genre: Dark Fiction
I open my eyes and the brightness surrounding me makes me squint. It’s white everywhere. Where am I?
I try to push myself up from where I’m lying expecting a hard ground beneath my body but it’s too soft to be mud or leaves. I immediately pull my hands away and turn to look what lies beneath me. Feathers – crisp white and tiny.
Sitting up I smile at myself grabbing a hand full of delicate feathers that are lying all around me. There’re so many that this place is looking white from roof to roots.
I blow the handful of feathers in my hand and they rise up in the air as if they have a life of their own. And just as those lovely feathers start to come down, I hear a giggle from behind.
For a second my heart stopped beating. No, it can’t be. Is this a dream?
I look around me at the feathers. Of course, it is a dream. I get up slowly trying to decide whether I really heard Mike’s voice or was it just my imagination. My whole body is moving slow as if moving fast will wake me up for real and I’ll lose this beautiful dream missing a chance to see Mike.
I hear his giggles again. This time I turn around so fast that I almost loose my footing. And when I look at the other side of the room, I see the most beautiful sight in the world- Mike sitting in his crib, waving at me and giggling.
Tears start running down my eyes as I run towards him. I feel as if I’ll explode with all the joy that is bubbling inside me. I reach out with my hand seeing Mike trying to get up holding the bars of the crib.
I’m running towards him, but then I realise that I’m still far away from him.
I try to run faster, and faster, to the point where my feet loose footing several times. I get up and run again, the dark cloud of panic settling over my heart.
“Mike. Don’t worry sweetie. Mommy’s coming.” I’m screaming like a mad woman now. But I’m nowhere near Mike. It feels like I’m still standing at the far corner of the room where I woke up.
I stop and look around to figure out a way to get to him before everything fades away- like it always does. I get down on my knees and frantically try to crawl through the feathers lying on the ground, trying to make my way to Mike.
A fog starts to settle in the room and now I can’t even see Mike clearly. “Don’t worry, Mike. mommy’s here, sweetie.”
I try to run again, but it’s of no use. I try to see through the fog and after a lot of trouble I’m finally able to see the outline of his crib. But what I notice nearly stops my heart. I can’t see him anymore. Slowly the fog starts to lift up, just the way it settles without any warning. And the scene in front of me knocks the wind out of me. Mike’s crib is empty. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no.. this can’t be happening again. No, no. Please, no! Mike, Mike! Come to mommy Mike. Mommy is here to take you with her.”
But there’s no sign of him or his sweet giggles.
I slump down on the ground among the feathers and stare at the empty crib in front of me. And all of a sudden I hear Mike’s sobs coming from my right.
I turn to see where he is, but instead of my sweet Mike I see a lot of feathers… and a big red patch soaking through them. And as the realisation dawns on me, I know that I’ve failed him again. Blood- my Mike’s blood. And here I am, witnessing the death of my 1-year-old child for the hundredth time.
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