Skip to main content

Tiny shoes


Image Source

Asha felt the soft contours of the tiny shoes.The cute bow sewed over the baby pink woolen wooed her to defy superstitions this time. She smoothed her hand over her growing belly and shuddered inwardly with sour memories. Tears stung her as she thought of her stillborn ones and hastily moved to the next aisle.

A 55-word fiction for day 5 at BarAThon by Blog-A-Rhythm.


Theme Prompt: Tiny shoes


Comments

  1. Uff! I'll confess - I was worried about heart-wrenching takes like these with this prompt. It's well done though, Uma!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Well, this was the first thought that came to me and I went by it. Thank you, Sid!

      Delete
  2. This hits too close home for comfort. The saddest thing ever - to lose a baby. You wove in so much in those 55 words.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'm sorry to hear that, Tulika. Hugs!

      Delete
  3. 55 words. But enough to make the reader feel the pain. Any form of loss is difficult to deal with, but it is esp. difficult in the case of a baby.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Would love to hear from you :-)
Also, please click the subscribe by Email link below the comment form to get follow-up comments to your inbox..

Popular posts from this blog

Cross over- Micro-prose in 50 words

Tread on gently.

It's tough to say goodbye. Even when you know it's desirable. Explain, if you must, but keep it short. Do not mock the tears that might flow out. Don't utter words that you'd regret.

A schism has been formed, but there's no need to burn the bridge.

_______

Caffeinated attraction

Words jostled inside Anusha's head as she snaked her way between the tables to her favourite spot in the cozy cafe. She slid her laptop out, rested the bag beside her on the silver grey cushioned sofa and called for her favourite cappuccino. They made it just the way she preferred: the right amount of milk and coffee, the closest alternative to the filter kaapi her mom made.

Gazing out of the glass window, she sipped her beverage, letting the bitter-sweet taste linger, weighing her thoughts before her fingers could fly on the keyboard to give shape to them. The white fluffs of clouds against the clear blue skies floated gently with the summer breeze and they seemed, to the writer in her, like mischevious sheep that had strayed off the flock.

Oh, well, it's my mind that's straying now. Need to get my act right for my next submission. Anusha willed herself back to the present.

The cafe was Anusha's muse, the mecca she haunted during the weekends for the past three months…

Rotting humanity

Doc, there's an emergency!

The breaking news flashes the brutal carnage. Images and voices float in my mind as I drive in manic speed to the hospital.

Of sirens blazing. Of toys and limbs lying scattered on a carpet of red and brown.

Oxygen! I scream. Pump, harder.

Doc, there's no pulse.

Shoulders slump.

I witness grief fuse into flames that rise up collectively at the mass funeral. The ashes fall lightly on me.

Will the stench of hate ever recede?

*** Written for a prompt at