Friday Fictioneers – Not What We Had Planned

For the last few weeks, I’ve been playing with a little story that needed just this photo. It’s a difficult tale to tell, as it addresses a tragedy none of us would imagine ourselves strong enough to endure. But men and women, fathers and mothers, do endure, and it is to those who have emerged from the horrors of one of these secret rooms and walked with empty arms through a hallway much like this one, dark despite the shining lights, to whom I dedicate this piece. Your strength and grace astound me.

Photo Copyright – Rich Voza

Not What We Had Planned (100 words)

“Where is that bastard?” she screamed, sweat pouring from her brow. “I can’t do this!”

The young man beside the bed slid a cell phone into his pocket. “You’re going to have to, sis. Bus troubles. Dan won’t make it.”

Angelique clenched her fists as the woman bore down one final time.  Peering around the doctor, she saw the baby’s perfect head, round and beautiful, still covered with amniotic fluid. Silently, the doctor placed the infant in his mother’s arms.

A cry erupted in the somber room. Angelique touched the trembling mother, and together each kissed a flawless, stillborn cheek.

 

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Click here to participate in Friday Fictioneers by writing your own 100 word story or to read the work of other participants.

Click here to read more of Angelique’s story.

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48 thoughts on “Friday Fictioneers – Not What We Had Planned

    • Thank you. I hesitated to post it because this sort of event seems like such a sacred tragedy, but a bigger part of me feels that those who endure the loss of a newborn deserve not to be shut away from our thoughts.

    • Yes, and a side effect of that isolation is an ability to pretend, at least for awhile, that all these tragedies that seems so unnatural happen only to “other people,” and could never happen to us. Thanks for reading.

    • Thank you, and yes, this is reality. On the bright side, the ability of humans to carry on after tragedy is reality, too. That is part of my bigger goal with Angelique, to show that by God’s grace, we continue. It might not come out in these 100 word snippets, but that’s where I’d ultimately like to go.

  1. Wow. I can only imagine the woman’s pain. New to Angelique’s story I had to read this twice to fingure out the who, what and why, but when it all click, boy did it click. So sad and powerful.

    • Thank you, Debra. If you click on “Friday Fictioneers” at the top of the page (next to Home and About), you’ll find several Angelique stories. I’m glad you enjoyed this one! Thanks for stopping by!

  2. Hated your story. I was one of those who went through this. 30 years ago. It still hurts. And no, I didn’t really hate your story. But yes, I still think of her! Alison lived just about 7 hours!

    • Paul, I kind of hate my story, too. Thank you so much for commenting and sharing your love for your sweet Allison. I am truly sorry you did not have more time with her. I meant what I wrote in the beginning… Your strength and grace astound me. Again, thank you for the heartfelt comment.

  3. Well you sure got the emotion out from me. My Partner & I are not ready to have children yet, my biological clock is ticking and This IS my worst nightmare. (Another reminder for me to visit my Doctor for tests – so I thank you for that) . 🙂

  4. Pingback: Friday Fictioneers: Another Kind of Death (Paranormal) | Waiting for a Name

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