Friday Fictioneers – Birth Rites

ff280115An icy wind whistled through the broken, abandoned buildings that formed, the once prosperous, St. Logan’s Cement Works. Three floors up, we huddled desperately for warmth in the corner of a derelict staff room. Droplets of oily condensation fell from the leaking roof, hissing against the single, glowing orange bar of our fire.

Ellie-May could never have foreseen a moment, or indeed a life, like this.  I doubt she’ll ever get over the rejection, let alone the deeply hurtful words, both said and written. I only pray she’s strong enough – for herself, and our child.

Ellie-May exhaled a deep breath and tightly squeezed my hand. It was time.


These words form my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.

11 thoughts on “Friday Fictioneers – Birth Rites

  1. Sandra

    Yes, I’d thought it was parental rejection. I liked that ‘oily condensation’ falling on the glowing bar of the electric fire. Sometimes it’s images like that which make a piece. Well done.

  2. Claire Fuller

    I definitely felt this was dystopian, but I’ve recently read Then by Julie Myerson, which this piece really reminded me of. I didn’t get who said the words or why, but it didn’t matter. The location and situation were very clear. Lovely writing.

  3. Priceless Joy

    I am wondering… was she rejected by her baby’s father as they were holding hands at the end. I guess this part confused me but the rest was awesome ! I loved it. Just wondering who rejected her.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s