Romance Writers Weekly--Flash Fiction Edition

This week at Romance Writers Weekly we are playing with flash fiction. We have 500 words to write a story and within that story we had to use the words Pickle, Looking glass, and letter. I am not very good at creating a story from only 500 words, so be gentle with me.

Melanie hated nights alone. The castle was dark and foreboding. If only Benjamin would return soon. He left to ride into town as she had eaten the last jar of pickles earlier that day. If he didn’t get back soon, she would worry. The letter from her sister sat on her writing desk, she should answer it, but she was just so tired all the time now.

Maybe moving would help her pass the time. She could walk for hours in the large hollow space and not know where she had gone. The servants were long in their slumber, so instead of turning toward that side of the house, she turned and wandered through to the portrait

room. On her way her stomach growled. “He is on his way, don’t be so demanding,” she said to her grumbling stomach. She never liked pickles before, so her current need for them now surprised her.

At the end of the long hall stood a massive floor to ceiling looking glass. She always felt small

walking up and looking into it. Tonight, her rounded stomach made her feel anything but small. This child would be a giant if her size was any indication. She turned to see her side view, and that is when she felt the pain. It doubled her over. Then all of a sudden, she was standing in a puddle. She looked at the image looking back at her with a panicked expression. The baby clearly wanted pickles worse than she thought.

Making her way back to her bed chamber alone, she rang the bell at her bedside table in hopes that the midwife Benjamin hired to be here wasn’t a light sleeper. Within minutes the woman came bustling into the room.

“The baby may be on the way.”

“Aye, and how do you know this? Tis only your first child.” She said sharply.

Melanie never liked this woman, but he birthed Benjamin and he felt most comfortable with her, “Perhaps so, but I was with my sister when she gave birth, and every time before the blessed event she had water gush from her body.” It was crass she knew, but this was not the time to dither.

“Very well then,” was her tart reply.

Just then pain gripped her, and she cried out. The midwife moved to get a look and went white. “Well, this one is in a hurry, mi lady. I hope you are ready, now push.”

In all the commotion, neither woman took notice of Benjamin who stood in the doorway, a jar of pickles in his hand forgotten. Before he could gather himself to leave them in privacy there was a great moan from his wife and a wail of epic proportions from his son. He was a father.

The two women chose that moment to notice him in the doorway, but then didn’t bother. All their attention was on the heir.

He just went to get pickles.

Next up we have have Brenda Margriet

She also has a sale in August: When Time Falls Still is $.99

copyright 2020 by Clair Brett

WebGoddess: Mary Ann Jock

 

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