By PJ McCann
The nurse offered him the child. He unslung his weapon to receive it.
Through the curtains, moonlight poured over the bed like a funeral veil. The young mother lay there, pale among the bleeding sheets, and the man and the sleeping child sat at her bedside. Did this face even resemble his own? He asked the nurse when she came through, but she said nothing, smiling sadly. He waited, thinking only that this child’s face took all from the mother, but nothing from himself.
At dawn, he followed the darkness to war, and the child, an orphan, slept alone in Paris.
This is so beautiful and haunting and sad. Thank you.
Yes, beautifully sad; shows the downside of war.
A well-written, realistic-yet-spiritual, glimpse at the only time a child & both its parents will be together.Sadly, they’ll only have that night in Paris. No names are needed in this universal portrait. I think “… moonlight poured over the bed like a funeral veil” is a sensational simile. It’s a precursor to “the bleeding sheets.” I felt the child’s loneliness as its father “followed the darkness to war.” PJ McCann, “Our Father” is an excellent flash fiction piece.
I thought it was painful and powerful. This story was written very well.
Evokes so many emotions. Deserves to win the first place.
Heart breaking. I especially appreciate how it raises so many questions that can never be answered for this tiny, momentary family. Beautifully done!
So much expressed in so few words!