Pasiphe

Originally written in 2013 for my high school creative writing class.

She curled up contently on her side, the center of the universe wrapped safely in her arms. She smiled warmly at the newborn, watching the delicate rise and fall of his chest. Love spilled from her eyes in silent teardrops. Everything about her baby was perfect; his grasping hands, the eyelids shut over his sleeping eyes, the tiny points sticking out just above his brown curls. Footsteps echoed in the hall, and she sat up slowly, keeping him held tightly to her chest. Only when she heard the door open did she manage to pull her gaze from the child. Her body tensed instinctively. Before her stood her beloved husband and two armed guards. He nodded once to her child and the soldiers advanced. Her tears continued to fall, but now they were cold and heavy with fear. "No..." She begged as the helmeted men pried the sleeping angel from her embrace. She felt her heart be torn from hr chest as they turned and marched from the room. "No!" She screamed, shaking from the force of her sobs. Her husband left without so much as a second glance. She continued to call and plead for her baby. Just once more, let her hold him just once more. The room stayed empty aside from her, and finally she grew silent once more, staring forward with eyes as hollow as her chest. 

Author's Note

Any feedback is appreciated!

Reviews

[Edwin-Nweze]

This leaves me with so many questions and wanting to know more, making it feel like more of a scene in a story than a story in and of itself. However, I realise that this can be a personal choice and you may have decided to do this, leaving the reader dwelling on the story after it has been read. Splitting this piece into paragraphs would have also been helpful for the reader (at least to separate the diologue from the rest of the text). A curious piece that has me craving more...