A work of fiction

Way back last year I wrote a short story, I don’t think I shared it, its quite dark, which is where I was at the time. So I thought I would share it now

She woke up with a start her ears still ringing from the sound of the bombs exploding. Looked around, her husband was snoring next to her, the dog still on her legs. It was just a dream, she heard a noise and smiled as her little 3 year old son padded round the bed and got in next to her. She hugged him tightly and fell back to sleep.

“She is coming round” she was wondering what was happening, her head was pounding, this was not her bedroom, there was a sound of noise and a stench, it looked so dark and smokey. “Lucy, lucy,” her husbands face came into view, his eyes looked different, haunted? she couldn’t put a finger on it. she smiled, it was the same dream, she would wake up any second now, her son demanding breakfast. She closed her eyes again

“mummy mummy can I have wetabix” her eyes opened, she was back in her white room, the sunlight pouring in through the crack in the curtain. She wished she knew why she kept having this dream, the news in the world was bleak but nothing compared to the dream.

She put the kettle on and made her son breakfast. She wondered how long it would be till her husband got out of bed, he was never a morning person. She watched the steam come from the kettle. She always had a vivid imagaination but this was something more. Maybe she should google dreams and see if anything came up.

The doorbell rang and suddenly she saw her husbands face. Why was she lying down? Why was she in her dream? She knew she had been awake. Tommy, where is Tommy. It went black.

“mummy are you ok?” Tommy was there infront of her and she hugged him, hugged him tight. She didn’t know what was happening but she was never going to let him go. She heard her husbands voice, “Lucy you have to let him go,” She heard herself screaming no, no, she held on so tight as it came flooding back to her, China had sent a nuc to America, America had responded, Russia had got involved and the UK had been in the middle. The house hadn’t survived but she had and her husband but her son, sitting at the breakfast table hadn’t. She kept on holding. She would never let him go again.

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7 Responses to A work of fiction

  1. Cyranny says:

    Wow! Ok, I didn’t expect fiction from you, Lady… And this is quite a surprise for a first! Bravo!! xx

    Liked by 1 person

  2. manyofus1980 says:

    amazingly cool! I loved this! you a real storyteller! ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Pingback: *Press it* A work of fiction #34 | Its good to be crazy Sometimes

  4. Intensely emotionally. Excellent portrayal of a tragedy! Though fictional you made it feel real!

    Liked by 1 person

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