FGC #29 Silent Screams

I feel your judgement. Eventhough your eyes dart away if I try to engage you with a glance. Your thoughts shout across the room. Irresponsible mother.  Heartless, unfit, uncaring.

I am haunted by the repetition of those lost minutes. Scant moments, snatched asleep. Enough for him to wander into the laundry. Then. Silence. Screams. My screams.

The stillness of this room, the beeping machines, the sterile scent of cleanliness only harsh chemicals can emulate. My waking nightmare. My red eyes stricken by drought. 

This ultra-bright floor, frowns at me as it compares my worn slip on shoes against its pristine efficiency.

They tell me its time. I nod mechanically as switches are flicked. I watch his rhythmic breaths, forced downward are suddenly silenced. Tubes are removed and the incessant beeping map of the journey of his small heart are ceased.

Like automatons they leave; wheeling their machines toward the next room, perhaps to save a life this time. Their judgment and disgust pollute the air. It chokes me and I wish for tears.

I grip the tiny body trapped under that shiny white shroud. His face always peaceful, does not fight for breath. I smooth the mouse-brown wisps away from his face. Lips now blue. Just the way they had been when I found him. My lips white as I screamed, desperately pulling him out of that overly large bucket, half filled with soaking nappies. 

If only I hadn’t tried so hard to be environmentally aware. Been like other mothers. If only I had used disposable nappies, he’d still be alive.

The purity of all the whiteness hurt my eyes. All the chemicals used to make everything so sterile, seep insidiously around us. Nothing toxic had been allowed into my child's life …… until now.

An efficient hand feels for a pulse and with a cursory glance at the clock; calls the official time; summoning death to collect another soul before stalking robotically out. 

I feel the judgement of the orderly as he wheels my bright little soul away. The one who should be playing in the garden today. Digging his fingers into the cool earth and smearing it over his dungarees. I see your judgement.

Irresponsible mother. 

A few moments distraction. A few centimetres of water. Playful boy, pulling at those soaking nappies. Reaching inward and toppling forward. Trapped. Drowning.

Can you ever look at me again? This end. Is this the end of us?

Irresponsible mother. Murderer. 

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This was written in response to Write Anything's Form and Genre Challenge  FGC #29 Monologue

Words: 410

Sick with Sadness

This story has been removed to be polished for submissions.


wish me luck
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This is a first draft.

PROMPT:   Use this sentiment or theme for your story “Sick with Sadness”

This story inspired by the [Fiction Friday] prompt at Write Anything  and submitted to JM Strother’s #FridayFlash via Twitter.  

Its also recorded as a Spoken Sunday on Audioboo

The Pain in Waiting

Prompt: The keys opened every door in the house, except the small wooden on at the end of the hall.

This story has been removed for further editing and refining.. Hopefully it will be submitted to competitions and perhaps an Anthology...

thanks for popping by when it WAS up.. and leaving your comments

Sketch in response to prompt and story in response to sketch. More of Annies Art here

Said, Saying, Meaning, Meant

Mondays Musical Musings... 7#

A story inspired ( or begun) by listening to:

Hearts a Mess (Goyte)

“Let me into your head….. What occupies your mind?…”

“Pass the salt” He said

Even the evening meal I cannot get right. Its not spiced right or I don’t prepare it the way he thinks aught. Nothing is ever good enough.

Her hand automatically reached and passed along the salt.

Each grain he shook out representing her hopes. His hand crushing her spirit as he gripped the salt cruet.

He smashed the boiled potatoes and scooped a large dob of butter to mix into the mire.

Smashing her self confidence, muddling her energies, making her a mess unfocused and unable to solidify thoughts or actions...

“My shirts are still on the line. They’ll be too damp to iron now.”

Another failing I have. Forgetting to get the washing in will now mean a rush in the morning, more frustration as he is late for the bus and work, not to mention that the black clothes still hanging will fade in the strong sunlight in the morning.

She shivered not looking forward to the lecture on prolonging the life of clothes by hanging them inside out, and hoped he wouldn’t inspect the socks to discover that they were not pegged in pairs on the line as he decreed.

“Mum, Harry just poked me Mum, Tilly was looking at me”. Came the whining across the table.

“Just eat your dinner quietly and keep your hands to your selves.” She said.

The studious mashing of vegetables increased.

I can’t even control my kids. They are always fighting, always at each other. Never a moments peace. I must be the worst mother in the world. I never get the chance to do art and craft with them, play or build things anymore. I ‘m just so tired. No wonder I am so hopeless as a mother.

He glanced up and into her eyes. She looked away quickly.

“You kids will have to clean up your rooms after dinner the place is a constant pigstyle.”

Indignant retorts rose to her throat but was trapped by helplessness, blame and shame. She worked hard to keep things tidy, ensuring toys were away and surfaces were gleaming when she went to bed. It was never tidy enough, always comments and criticisms.

Silence as the meal was consumed.

They looked at each other for a moment and then looked away as quickly.

Let me into your head. What are you thinking? What occupies your mind? I have nothing to say, nothing to contribute. I might as well not be here. How has it come to this?

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“Pass the salt”

Pass me your hand. Let me touch you. Look at me. I’ll smash these potatoes instead of pounding the table. At least I can control how I eat my potatoes.

It was dark outside, but the luminous whiteness of his shirts reflected inwards. The dew would make it difficult to ensure the shirts would sit right even after ironing. Best to leave them out and grab them in the morning.

“My shirts are still on the line. They’ll be too damp to iron now.”

I’ll do it in the morning. A shirt looks best if crisply ironed and worn straight away anyway.

“Mum, Harry just poked me Mum, Tilly was looking at me”. Came the whining across the table.

“Just eat your dinner quietly and keep your hands to your selves.” She said.

My brothers were always trying to get me in trouble too. I am going to have a handful with that one. Whats worse is I know what boys think and looking at the way Tilly was growing into a beautiful young lady, things are going to get sticky. I’ll need to squash them like I am squashing these vegetables.

He glanced up and into her eyes. She looked away quickly.

She looks tired. The kids should be helping out more. She’s a stranger to me. A ghost of what she used to be.

“You kids will have to clean up your rooms after dinner the place is a constant pigstyle.”

Look at me. Look at me the way we used to look at each other. Don’t be a stranger. I don’t know who you are any more.

Silence as the meal was consumed.

They looked at each other for a moment and then looked away as quickly

Let me into your head. What are you thinking? What occupies your mind? I have nothing to say, nothing to contribute. I might as well not be here. How has it come to this?

Reclaiming your Sexuality after Birth

Sex after Postpartum – sounds so clinical doesn’t it? Sadly its treated as such by healthcare professionals and a subject held taboo even amongst the closest of girlfriends. Men and women have different worries and reactions when it comes to sex; without adding the complications of childbirth along with the reshaping and search for meaning and identity as a parent.

No doubt you will have searched the internet and book stores for information, and perhaps asked friends and family for their perspectives and experiences on this subject. I would hazard a guess that you have not found the answers or validation you are seeking and believe that there must be ‘more’ to it. The information available on the internet regarding sex after childbirth is enough to confuse and distress the hardiest new mother ( or those thinking about it). Much of the helpful hints only outline practical observations such as the use of lubricants, pelvic floor exercises and nutrition and very few address the emotional and hormonal rollercoaster that both parents face after the arrival of their baby. Popular parenting and relationship websites skirt around this subject or fob it off to be ticked off in a medical check up.

I have started a journey of discovery surrounding this subject, wanting to dispell and defuse the deeply embedded belief that women should ‘Just get over themselves and get back on the job’ when it comes to sex - it is far more complex than that. There is an entire emotional, psychological, physical, social and relationship change after birth, which cannot be assessed in a 10 min ‘medical ‘ check up – which is what most couples assess the ‘readiness” upon. I want women to stop carrying the guilt that it is ‘their fault’ that a couple’s sex life is not like it once was. This is unfair and destructive to a relationship in the short and long term. In no way do I wish to demonize men as they are an integral part of the emotional and physical healing process. It is my desire to show that many assumptions around initiating and maintaining a sex life after birth are wrong or simplistic. My intention is to create a resource that is a beginning point in reclaiming sex after childbirth.

I would like to invite you to share your wisdom, personal stories and practical suggestions - if you are a mothers who has, or are in the process of, reclaiming sex after childbirth – OR if you are a father who is also on this journey. Comments and insights are welcomed from soon to be parents, new parents, couples or singles with children of any age who want to reclaim this important aspect of their lives and relationships.

Please feel free to comment either here, on my page or on the blog at www.reclaimsexafterbirth.com

I look forward to your wonderful responses.

Scars and Spiderwebs

Prompt: Tell of a characters scar.

This first draft has been removed as it has been chosen to be included in my 2008 Anthology and is under consideration for inclusion on a collaborative one with Jodi and Paul.

These will be available here - so do pop over!