The Last Lullaby

Eventually, I stroke her cheek; it is porcelain-smooth, and cold. I marvel at the slight tilt of her chin and the way her nose turns up, just like mine. The frost has made stars in her eyes and within them I see God. Her bones and lungs are still now; she will know neither fear nor pain. She was born as the warning sirens wailed, and I gently took away her breath when the sky began to burn. I lie on the hard ground and wrap her tiny, frozen body inside my coat. The ash falls like snow, covering us both.

---

#FLASHFICTION101 August 2021 SHORTLISTED ENTRY

All work remains copyright of the owner. No reproduction of this work is permitted without written permission from the author detailed here. If you wish to contact the author, please contact Tortive Theatre.

#FlashFiction101 is a monthly competition and free to enter. For more information on the competition please visit www.tortivetheatre.com/flash101