I grew my hair out all summer so that I could wear it up in a high and slightly off-centre ponytail. Gone was my chin-length bob that framed my round child face, that I was sure made me look chubby. I wasn’t chubby — easy to see that now — but a steady campaign of taunting had made me believe I was. I thought that being fat was the worst thing I could possibly be.

Microfiction Challenge Day 2 – Electric

It was forty-three days after she came to be that the first spark began.

Nothing more than a flicker; the sort of thing doctors measure to make blanket statements. Alive. Dead.

She was alive. She was nothing more than a cluster of cells, and on the internet people kept comparing her to food stuffs. Small as a pea. Small as a pomegranate seed. As though I were a farmer of specifically minuscule produce and not a pregnant woman.

Love Story

I woke up in the morning when my Bernese Mountain dog, Humphrey, jumped on my side of the bed. His warm weight pressed against my back and I reached a hand out sleepily to stroke his ears. Harry stirred beside me, rolling onto his back, the filtered light through the thin curtains covering our bedroom window drifting over his bare chest. He smiled as I nestled my head into his shoulder and felt his lips brush my forehead.