Charlotte stood in the nursery, surveying the room to see what else needed to be done before the arrival of her unborn child. She bit her bottom lip. Everything was there. She went over to the crib and picked up the yellow knit blanket her grandmother had made for her when she was a baby. She brought it up to her face and sniffed it. A flowery scent filled her nose and she smiled to herself.
A loud explosion sounded from outside. Her shoulders tensed and her heart stopped beating in her chest . . .
The wailing of sirens made Charlotte drop the porcelain tea cup she had been drying. It shattered once it hit the side of the sink and fragmented more once it hit the floor. There was no time to clean it up.
She ran shoeless to the back door, swung it open, and sprinted outside to the end of her yard where the bunker was. An explosion nearby made Charlotte lose her footing and fall to ground. A sob escaped her, but she managed to get back to her feet. The only thing she could think of was getting to safety to keep her baby safe.
A plane roared by overhead, and in the distance she could see the tiny black dots it was dropping until they were out of sight. The ground shook under her, but she managed to stay afoot this time. Reaching the bunker finally, she slammed the door shut behind her, and barred it.
Charlotte crumpled to the ground, sobbing. The front of her legs stung, and she briefly looked to see dirt and a few scrapes on them. Thundering sounded around her, rattling the world around her. She closed her eyes, and brought her knees up to herself to tightly hug them. She would have to brace this by herself. Her husband was away fighting at the front and her parents moved up to Edinburgh before the war broke out.
A jarring pain shot through her, making her cry out and double over. "Please no . . ." she pleaded. "Please no . . ."
"It's alright, Lottie," Stephen's soothing voice cut through the memory, forcing Charlotte back to present. "You aren't there anymore." His hand gently stroked her hair to comfort her ailing thoughts. "This baby is okay."
The yellow blanket was in a rolled heap, her knuckles white from clenching it so tightly. She hadn't realized she had been shaking until now, and she freed one of her hands to search for the comforting kick of the life growing inside of her.
YOU ARE READING
The Loss of Innocence
Historical FictionThis is a Flash Fiction story I did for a Creative Writing class. It had to be between 250 and 300 words. Additionally, this will be a draft because I know there are some things that need to be worked out.
