Five Sentence Fiction: Victory

Photo By Lisa Shambrook (Please do not use)

She crouched uncomfortably on her knee, resting against the cot, its bars now imprinted on her cheek, one hand gently stroking soft baby hair and her finger tightly embraced within her baby’s tiny fist.
Her son’s thumb had found its way into his mouth and a quiet suckling broke the silence in the dark.
She held her breath and very, very delicately extricated her finger from his sleeping grasp, then slid her arms out through the bars as carefully as if they were laser beams, and slowly, very slowly rose to her feet.
Her creaking knees made her grimace and pause for a split second as the crunch echoed throughout the exhausted corridors of her mind, but she backed cautiously out of the room and pulled the bedroom door to.
She barely breathed as her ears listened for the tiniest of sounds, and as silence reigned she softly let out her breath and punched the air!


13 thoughts on “Five Sentence Fiction: Victory

  1. Janelle

    Oh I was with you, every tiny, tip-toeing step of the way! The part about the creaking knees took me back to trying to sneak out of my own daughter's bedroom, those bloody knees of mine would always give me away and wake her up.

  2. andyswordsandpictures

    Oh my god I remember those days of sleep deprivation. Our son (who heads off to his freshman year of collage in two weeks) stole many hours of sleep from us at night. There was is an unavoidable spot right infront of his bedroom door that creaks and after spending 25 minutes patting him back to sleep, you'd hit that spot and the wails would start all over again. A perfectly rendered story!


I'd love to hear from you...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s