Beams in Place

The house went up slowly, the beams being placed in the exact position they would have been should the original house have never gone up in flames. The windows put in looked the same as the ones that had been shattered or warped by the heat, but they were far more energy efficient. Everything about the house looked the same way it had looked when she’d been growing up, but made with better materials wherever able.

“If you’re going to do something and you can then you should do it well.”

That was something that her father had always said. She had taken it to heart for more than just her own life choices. She had gone through college, given everything she had, which was only what she had on her towards making a better life for herself and any family that she might have later in her life.

As she gazed up at the house that she had rebuilt using the money she had earned with her degree. She placed a hand on her slightly swelling belly and smiled up at her husband as he waved down from the roof where he was assisting in putting new shingles on.

This is a little sequel thing to Rebuilding the Ruins that I wrote at the end of November. It was inspired by this week’s Light and Shade Challenge picture.


Stuck In Stasis

It was different this morning, though she didn’t know why it should be. It wasn’t like there was any change in her circumstances, any word that something might change and not just in the future but at all.

The days dragged on, she hadn’t bothered keeping track of them from the first and so had no real idea of when it had happened.

(If she had wanted, she could have asked the police, they kept track. They would be surprised if she asked simply because most parents counted the days themselves and needed no reminder.)

She woke in the morning, went through the motions of surviving-

(-not living, living implied that you actually did something to make it look like you weren’t morosely waiting for the die you died-)

-trying to make it look to anyone on the outside like she would be able to survive losing her only daughter.

(That they knew about. The knowledge of her many, many children was sparse, not even their sire knowing how many there were.)

Sometimes, very rarely, she would feel the impulsive urge to just end it all. To cut what little she had left of her daughter out of her life and move on.


She couldn’t.

She couldn’t leave this life and try for another until she knew,¬†knew whether her daughter was still alive somewhere or dead and waiting to be found in a ditch.

So she would stay here and wait for word, whether from the police or from her daughter or even from the ones who had taken her. She didn’t care how long it took.

It’s not like she would die waiting, not with what she was.

Inspired from the prompt from Three Word Wednesday this week. It’s been a bit since I did a prompt from here and I found I missed it.

This is the sort-of sequel to an older work of mine, Won’t Leave You Behind.