She cries. I have a vague memory. Again, she cries. I stir. More
fractious wailing. Eventually, I groan. The misery doesn’t stop and so autopilot
moves me. Heavy limbs fight every motion as I zombie out of bed. Eyes refuse to
clear their slumber but a memorised route prevents accidental collision. The bedroom
door is opened with silent precision so as not to fully wake the child. Hesitant
steps are taken. I hold my breath. The child sleeps. Now I must tiptoe back the
way I came making not a whisper of a sound. Tiptoe. Tiptoe. She cries. I wake.
This week's challenge was to only write 100 words in ten minutes.
You can support my writing endeavours by buying me tea and cake.
Claire Buss is a multi-genre author and poet, completely addicted to cake. Find all her books on Amazon. Join the discussion in her Facebook group Buss's Book Stop.
I like that - it reminds me of when my kids were little. Does this have to be exactly 100 words? If I were doing this here's what I would write - going off your Am I awake?
ReplyDeleteIs it morning?
Turn that bright thing in the sky off.
Darkness is best, darkness is calm, quiet, and peaceful.
Brightness creeps up the wall and demands attention.
Damn, I don't want to be up.
Leave me to my dreams.
But the light is demanding, never giving way
Filling the room and reminding me tick tock tick tock
Get up, get up.
I sigh. My lids slide closed.
The thunder of little feet race
A hiss. I shift to make sure it's only play
Younger fur baby turns away, ignores me.
Fine I'll get up.
Mornings suck
Nice work! Glad I inspired you :)
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