The Awakening
Wed Jan 18, 2017 · 238 words

The little girl was barely awake. The place was barely enough for her to curl up. The darkness inside was perfect. The silence, deadly; only to be broken by a faint rhythm somewhere in the distance.

Not so far away, the mother had been desperately waiting for her little angel. She was utterly helpless. The wait had started months ago, but wait was all she could do. She had done everything they asked to keep her child safe. She knew her daughter was alive, but a mother’s anxiety is a relentless emotion.

She knew the wait would end soon but her apprehensions had found new heights. She knew that before she found happiness again, she had to pass one last test. But nothing could prepare for what was to come.

The journey to the hospital was a blur. Waves of agonising pain spread throughout her body. The toughness she had accumulated over the past few months was nowhere near enough for the ordeal. Tears obscured her vision. The air she gasped barely compensated for the screams she was letting out. Her fingers dug deep into the soft cotton of the bed.

And just as she thought of giving up, she heard her daughter. She was here.

The girl jolted awake from her sleep. It was time for her to meet her mother. Her eyes saw light, skin felt touch, and lungs filled with air. The baby was born.


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