Short Story Sunday: The Gift

Now I know that I will not be posting a short story every Sunday, but hey it sounds cool in the title. This is a little something I wrote a little under two years ago. In the spirit of the upcoming holidays (and *cough*the fact that I haven’t been posting much of late *cough*), I thought I’d share it with all of you. Enjoy!




 

The Gift

 “Here,” he whispered, softly placing the box in her palm.

She looked at him through her teary eyes, “But…”

“Shhh…” he said placing a finger to her lips. “I don’t want to make this any harder.” Gently he wiped her tears and tousled her hair, longing and a hint of regret in his eyes. Finally, he pressed his lips against hers, softly, gently. He looked downwards as he turned away.

She watched him sadly as he walked off. This was the last time she would ever see him. She clenched the box in her hand, crinkling the wrapping paper as waves of emotions flowed over her. Sadness, loneliness, despair, and anger. It wasn’t fair! No, life was never fair, was it? She let the tears flow freely, now that he could no longer see her.

Days later, she would finally find the courage to open the box. The object inside — his final gift to her — she would cherish forever.

Flash Fiction Friday

Every week Priceless Joy offers a flash fiction photo prompt at Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers where we are asked to write a story in 100-150 words. My story clocks in at exactly 150 words today.

Thank you to Louise at the Storyteller's Abode for this week's prompt!
Thank you to Louise at the Storyteller’s Abode for this week’s prompt!

She had been ecstatic, waiting for this day for seven months, but now as the train pulled away, she felt.

Could it possibly be that she had grown to love the miserable wretches her sister had birthed? She had never liked children, hence her happy solitude and spinster status. They were so loud, so obnoxious, grimy, and selfish, especially ones as young as her nephews who needed constant care.

Of course she agreed to care for them. Obnoxious or not, they were still her blood, and she was far enough from the warzone to keep them safe.

Despite all the daily screaming at the children and yearning for this day to come, the goodbyes made her heart heavy. Disgruntled at the appearance of tears, she turned away.

It was an awful feeling; this love she now realized. It was as if part of her was chugging away with that train…



You can view other submissions for this prompt here.