Friday Fictioneers: worldwide community of writers sharing stories inspired by a photo prompt offered by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. To join the reading and writing fun, click on the blue froggy at the bottom of the page.
Rochelle mentioned something about changing the name to “Weekly Fictioneers” or something to accommodate those of us who are either impatient, overly zealous, or chronologically challenged. For what it’s worth, dearest Rochelle, I hope we stick with Friday Fictioneers, as this is about the only event in my life for which I am habitually early.
This week’s story follows right on the heels of an older vignette, Not What We Had Planned. I will caution readers that these stories, particularly the first, deal with infant mortality. I’ve tried to handle the issue tenderly, but I understand that there are times in our lives when this matter is too close to the heart to read without stirring up a hurricane of emotion. If this is the case for you, know that you have my deepest sympathy.
As always, if you wish to know more of the story, click on Angelique.
Photo by Roger Cohen
(For clarity’s sake, if you haven’t read or have forgotten previous stories, Sara just gave birth to a stillborn son, while her brother, Jason, stood in for her husband, Dan, who was delayed by “bus troubles.” If you don’t know who Angelique is… Well, you’ll just have to click on her name to get to know her.)
Another Kind of Death
“You’re Claire’s new girl.” A woman shimmered into view at the head of the hospital bed, her hand on Sara’s sweaty brow. “Stay and learn about another kind of death.”
Angelique looked with her at the young man frowning at his phone.
“What kind of man misses his, his-”
He held the phone limply in his hand, his eyes fixed helplessly on the screen.
“His baby’s birth,” Sara said. “What kind of man misses his baby’s birth and death? That’s what you mean to say, Jason.”
“He’s a worthless piece-”
“We met in the orchestra, you know,” Sara said softly. “He played so tenderly, I cried the first time I heard him.”
Shaking his head, Jason set his phone on the table and looked at his sister.