The aching weight of you

Shrieks pierce my chest. I move quickly and lift you from your crib. We settle in the nursing chair.

The aching weight of you sags my arms. Silence cloaks the witching hour. We’re a raft lost at sea, a flame floating on an ocean of black. You latch on while I sing a lullaby so low it’s barely a whisper. Your head has an earthy heaviness.

Your hot milky smell, as delicate as a moth’s wing, envelopes us. Protects us. My eyes droop, my bones ache, but I hold on, still as the moon, wanting to keep this moment forever.

FF - 24.08.18 - aching weught
PHOTO PROMPT © Carla Bicomong

***

This piece was written for the Friday Fictioneers hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Addicted to Purple.

Each week a photo prompt is given and the challenge is write a flash fiction piece of no more than one hundred words.

Find other Friday Fictioneer stories here.

25 thoughts on “The aching weight of you

  1. You’ve given us so many delights in this story. I think my favourite is “Your hot milky smell, as delicate as a moth’s wing, envelopes us,” where the blending of smell and touch gives a powerful effect. And almost as exquisite, “but I hold on, still as the moon,” Lovely, poetic writing – just gorgeous!

    Liked by 2 people

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