Posts Tagged ‘babies’

Today Pegman took us to Abaco, Bahamas. Thanks, Karen and Josh for transporting us to such a beautiful place.

Bahama Beach Club

She will say there’s no specific reason
why she returns year after year after year.
But you know she just can’t admit there’s no letting go.
Truth be told, you can tell she welcomes the pain of seeing that chair, their chair,
where they sat each and every night.

He’s been gone for ten years, four days and an hour.
And, honestly, they hadn’t been together that long.
A week? Two?
You watched her fall in love.
And she fell so hard.

Even you had a difficult time resisting his blue eyes,
the wisps of blond hair that seemed to float up toward the ceiling,
his melt-your-heart smile.
And those dimples.
Oh, those dimples.

But from the beginning, you knew there was something wrong.
Something off-kilter.
His lack of focus.
The way he cried.

You want to tell her it’s the way of things.
Babies die.
Instead, you walk away.

Telltale Eyes

Posted: May 20, 2015 in Friday Fictioneers
Tags: , , ,

Friday Fictioneer Wednesday has rolled around again. Thanks to Santoshwriter for the beautiful picture prompt.

FF_santoshwriter (1)

It’s a good day when baby don’t cry. I knows he’s just a little ‘un, but with all the scrubbin’ and cookin’ I gots to do for the mens, I ain’t got much time left to tend him each time he whimpers or pees hisself. Sam Joseph says to just hang baby naked in a pint-sized hammock and let him do his business. No mamma can do that. ‘Sides I gots to feed tiny man. End of day I’m beat, and sometimes beatin’ by Master Tom. He don’t much like the fact baby gots his blue eyes and bad temper.


If they were truly lost, Samuel would tell her.  Wouldn’t he?  They’d been separated from the wagon train – walking for a week.  Hot.  No water.  Last night they saw smoke from a campfire.  Samuel said it was probably Cheyenne Indians or worse so they’d dowsed their own fire and eaten half-raw rabbit.  Now her stomach was churning along with the baby she’d been carrying for six months. She wanted it gone.  She wanted to die.  Blood curdling whoop.  Maybe not.