Short Fiction, short story

Birth Day

grayscale photo of baby feet with father and mother hands in heart signs
Photo by Andreas Wohlfahrt on

Belinda’s red tresses were gracefully swept back with a slice of the blue gingham Barton gave her for their anniversary, knowing her love of blue and how beautiful it accented her copper crown.

Betty Lou carried her tools to the duplex where Barton and Belinda made their home, Clement sniffed at the bag and licked Betty on her calf, Clement loved Betty almost as much as the salt she emitted.

Barton was working the mines, trusting that Betty Lou would be there for his bride when the time came for their first born to enter the world, how much he wanted to be there, but knew that he needed to keep making a living to provide for his family.

Bellowing was not Belinda’s way, but the beauty of childbirth brought with it truer than true pains and this was no exception as the baby was ready to be born.

Bathing the birth mother with the gentlest strokes, Betty Lou prepared for the great event, watching and waiting for the grand entrance of the new soul into the world.

Bawling from the first bit of air to his lungs, the little bitty boy announced his birthday to all who could hear, surely in the next door range, at least; a precious baby boy was born into the world, the world of coal miners, loving family, and his first best buddy, Clement, coming as close as he could to make sure his new prince would be safe.


This is the Six Sentence Story in response to the weekly prompt with you can find here: Girlie on the Edge’s Link

Thank you to Denise for her devotion to providing the weekly prompt. This week’s word was “Slice.”

Short Fiction

Blue Blanket

several yarn balls
Photo by Rijan Hamidovic on

Blue Blanket
Red-rimmed eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, cotton mouthed, she sat on her sofa, in her spot, as she snapped open the plastic container. A familiar fragrance teased her nostrils as she gasped and then allowed the scent to overtake her senses. Staring at the blanket through blurred vision, it was soft country blue colored, with fringed edges. Knowing this blanket was her sister’s favorite, she needed to keep this treasure.

Cozying in to the familiar soft comfort of her spot on the sofa, she gathered her yarn and hook. Excitement tickled her soul as she pondered the joy her sister would feel when she saw and touched her new blanket. While it was not her taste, her sister loved blues and mauves. Selecting the soft toned, country blue was easy. This would be a gift for her sister’s 21st birthday and she wanted to give something to her sister to treasure all of her life. As was her habit, she pondered positive thoughts as she hooked the yarn. Believing that keeping good thoughts would only make for many good things, she was certain that this blanket would bring much comfort and joy.

Holding the well-loved blanket to her face, breathing in the scent, closing her eyes, memories flooded her. Feeling the softness as she grazed the blanket with her fingertips, she came across a raised, rough patch. Looking closely, there was a stain, much in the shade of red, as in nail polish. This would have been from her niece. She loved the blanket and was likely wrapped in it while she painted her nails.

Working each row, creating the design, allowing for both durability and beauty, she counted and watched as the blanket unfolded into a work of art. Her old cat would keep her lap extra warm as he crawled underneath the workings. He was old and not so likely to bat the yarn as he did in his younger years. A bit of him would go along with the blanket, as it would be very difficult to pick out his golden fur.

Even after all these years, there were gold flecks in the blanket. Oh Kitty, she thought, you now can rest with my sister and her other pet children. Tell her to keep a warm spot for me, one day. She stroked the gold and closed her eyes, remembering the comfort he brought to her in all of his days. Dozing to a nappy sleep, she woke to nothing more or less than the changes of life. And peace. Peace in knowing that those before have no more pain and peace in knowing that those left behind can best bring comfort to each other. It’s the circle.