In his spell and under his control, I am in awe.
The soft light picked up his uneven growth, the twist of his tongue in concentration and his focussed blue eyes. It was as if I didn’t exist but I will always remember Dad’s shadow puppet shows.
He rose from his throne crowned in dandruff and robed in terry towelling. Trying to adjust to first light, their delight competed with consciousness.
“Spaghetti necklace” his daughter yelled, pulling it roughly over his head.
The pasta scratched and their love did little for his tiredness. Regardless, Dad smiled at the offering for the King.
In response to the Five Sentence Fiction prompt:Offering
The nurses fractically whirled around her as a single bead of sweat out ran the hair stuck to her forehead. A smile grew across her tired face. What began nine months ago was ending in pure joy.
I sit idly watching the heat rise through her body. It’s 4 am and the fire has been burning throughout the night.
Attempts have been made but without sleep the resistance is fading.
Her temperature is too much, she won’t take panadol. Tired and emotional, I’ll watch her sleep and pray she doesn’t burn.
Woken abruptly by the sound, the room seemed entirely untouched; freshly pressed clothes in a pile, window shut, draws slightly ajar and his daughter fast asleep.
Stooped low beside the bed, he kissed his angel. That’s when the sound returned; a low rumbling like a dog’s growl, his daughter’s hands violently clawing at his throat.
Daily prompt: Talking in your sleep
Looking right, my neck strains. It’s 3pm and I’m hunched over my desk
“Don’t sleep on the hardwood floors” the lingering pain reminds.
Despite this, I look at the photo frame to my right – she brings relief.
“I’m scared Daddy, can you sleep beside my bed?” It was 3am but I couldn’t say no.
Daily prompt: inanimate object
His manager’s demands were compounded by his responsibilities at home and the inevitable 60 hour work week.
Dan stopped and looked the framed photo on his desk. It was amazing what strength he found in his kids image alone.
Luke wasn’t fighting a grumpy baby or his boundary pushing toddler. He fought against his own frustrations, a battle he wishes he could win more often.
I caught myself in a mood this morning, unfortunately so did my children. Even when toast is spat on the floor and the screaming runs for hours, we must not let our frustration take hold – pour love not anger of our children.
It only takes a minute but the stress quickly fades along with the cacophony of passing cars, drowned by the sound of rattling keys in the front door. The door sweeps open, and light hits his face.
Leaving the weight of the day behind, he embraces another load.
Fourteen kilograms of pure joy. Daddy’s home.