Front of house
WRITING PROMPT NO. 158
If she stood for long enough she could hear the sound of her laughter in the distance.
Four years had passed but the pain still lingered deep in her body where she’d grown her baby. Facing the garage door brought back the horror. The screech of heavy braking, a sickening thump, the silence. The silence held the terror. She’d raced downstairs blood rushing through her head, her breath shallow and tight in her lungs.
When she opened the door she saw a group of people standing over her broken daughter. A woman sat behind the wheel of a car with a smashed up headlight, shock spreading across her face, her hands still gripping the wheel. She vomited into her lap.
No, no, no. Not her. She ran to her child as the small crowd of people parted to let her through. She heard nothing but herself screaming. She knelt down not knowing where to place her hands. There was no blood aside from a thin trickle escaping from her left nostril. She placed her hands under her child’s narrow limp body pulling her up onto her knees. The pain of an animal echoed through the street as she rocked and cradled her daughter. At the end of the road, a siren sounded coming closer to take her child away.
Feeling brave? Want to share your story? In the words of one Disney princess, Let it go, in the comments below.