Flash Fiction Left Behind Authors Eolas Pellor Right in the Middle of Her Forehead

Right in the Middle of Her Forehead

by Eolas Pellor

198 words · 6 likes · Permalink

They made their way out of the storm-cellar and surveyed the damage. The henhouse was gone, as was most of the barn's roof. The shed where John had shut up the ducks was leaning as if it needed to catch its breath, but inside the ducks and ducklings were fine.

One of the attic windows, where the hired girls slept, had a branch through it and Ned the hired hand scratched his head as he looked at the broken timber. Perhaps he was remembering the times he'd climbed through that window on his way to visit one of the girls, John couldn't say.

They made their way to the front of the house, where everything seemed untouched. Mrs Eccles made her way inside, just to see if everything was where it should be. John started to pick up debris -- there were shingles and bits of wood everywhere -- when he suddenly saw it.

Nestled in the lilac bush as if it was lying in a cradle, there was a baby. A real one. A blonde little girl, gurgling and reaching out toward him. He picked her up and yelled for Mr and Mrs Eccles to come and see her.

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