- Ah, those strawberries are divine - at that stage she was eating them by handfuls.
-I think you are divine, Darling - he moved closer to her and looked up at the view in front of them. Fields and fields of wheat, as far as you could see, ripe and shimmering gold with the sunrise.
- I love those morning moments - she put her head on his chest and tucked her feet under her.
- She will not be too long - he laughed and just as he did, they heard little footsteps running down the stairs and towards the opened door onto the deck.
- There you are sweetie , how was your dream?
- It was great mamma, I was a princess in the largest Peach Castle ever! - the little girl exclaimed with her arms outstretched.
- That's beautiful, Darling, and now maybe you'd like the smallest strawberry ever? - the man held a bowl of tiny strawberries in front of his daughter, already sitting on mum's lap. She did not hesitate or waste any time.
- Hhhhmm.. yummy - her smile was contagious - enowa!
- What? - mum smiled
- Enowa! - the girl pointed to the bowl.
- Enowa, daddy! hurry up! - Mum gestured to the bowl and laughed, kissing her child on the head.
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Sleeping Afraid
I always wake to three hallowing knocks that reverberate from the back of my skull through my teeth. That’s how I know it’s coming. The bitter metallic taste of adrenaline coats my tongue. Hot panic has its claws in my chest and sweat dews my forehead. Suspense and dread course through my veins and it takes all my strength to choose survival over succumbing to the debilitating fear. My ears twitch like a dog toward every noise and my breath comes hot against the hand that I pressed to my mouth to keep myself quiet. I need to slow my breathing…one breath in, hold, one breath out. I remove my hand from my mouth so I can ease myself out of bed and carefully place my feet onto the floor so as not to make a sound. I half-crouch and feel my way to the bedroom door, and slowly turn the knob. I know when to stop opening it to avoid the creak and I start making my way down the foreboding hallway. The floorboards give in pain as my weight shifts from one foot to the other, not quite walking, just easing my way forward. I feel another rush of dread drop into the pit of my stomach when I reach the stairs – they’re the hardest part. The old wood of the house moans with the weight of my fear and no matter how hard I try they always creak. I’ve learned the hard way that I have to do these quickly – it wakes and finds me with the sound of these godforsaken stairs. I stay in a low crouch, my legs on fire with the effort, as I place one foot on each stair using the handrail to guide myself down and take, albeit minimal, weight off the unforgiving wood.
By Tattoos & Tarot5 days ago in Fiction
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