Points of Light

 

“They will not come.”

Mara stilled her neck from shaking. Gabrielle did not need confirmation as much as she needed hope. “Oh, but they will,” she soothed.

Gabrielle shifted and sighed in half voice, half moan.

“Are they coming more frequently now?” Mara inquired then laughed at the teen’s raised eyebrow. “The contractions, I mean. Not the others.”

“They can all come once and done,” Gabrielle sputtered between clenched teeth.

Mara chuckled but her eyes searched the darkness. Gabrielle’s stamina would not last long.

A light wavered in the distance. Became three points. Mara exhaled. Finally, the sign of hope.

 

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo prompt © Lisa Fox

Albatross

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(Photo: Duncan Kidd on Unsplash)

 

They were all of them going to the fair. But her.

She had to stay home. Tend the fire. Knead the dough. Rock the cradle.

She still recalled her dreams of growing up. The independence.

The folly.

She went from burdened by her folks, to burdened by her husband.

The dream now an albatross.

A wail rose from the other room. The baby.

Could have been her own dejected cry.

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt of: Dejected in 70 words

 

A Thorny Issue

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Photo: Andrey Grinkevich on Unsplash

 

There would be no smooth solutions

No easy way to extract

Themselves

From the tangle

They had let grow

All around them.

 

Only one way out was left:

Through the bramble,

Through the sorrow

Through the scars that would

Need nursing

Back to truth.

 

 

 

For the dVerse quadrille challenge: Bramble

 

 

 

Bedtime for Luna


PHOTO PROMPT © Gah Learner

 

“So, remember,” her hand on the door’s handle. “Bedtime at 9, only one treat, brush your teeth.”

“And no opening the door for anyone,” he intoned.

At least it got him a smile. There weren’t many of them of late.

She tucked an errant lock of hair behind an ear and suddenly he couldn’t stand it.

“When will you be back?” He knew. He had to ask.

She glanced at the window. The court-order weighed heavy on her mind.

“When Luna goes to bed behind the mountain, I’ll be home.”

For the last time.

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

 

In The Balance

cupped AmitaiAsif

Photo: Amitai Asif

 

As tensions hold

The edge

Between manageable

And overwhelmed,

Between spared

And flooded,

Be tender.

As scales tip

To potentiate

Disaster

And fluctuate

From safe

To calamitous,

Be kind.

Remember how

Critical times

Hold within them

The balance

Of rebuilding

On the fabric of

Strength

And profound

Understanding.

 

 

For The Daily Post