Waiting

1st place £200

Moonlight filters through lace curtains, filigree patterns on scarred floorboards. The house is hushed, waiting. Nothing would happen for hours yet but I am content to sit, serene in the knowledge they are coming. I rock slowly back and forth, back and forth, the gentle rhythm and familiar creaking of my rocking chair soothing me, waiting.

My chair has my name painted on it; Lucy, ornate in blue, the curl of the y ending in a single forget-me-not. I remember Ben hauling it through the doorway, grinning and telling me to try it for size. I had dragged my body off the bed and lowered myself on to the cushioned seat. The chair had rocked gently, claiming me as its own. It was perfect, calming and peaceful; I smiled gratefully at Ben as he knelt before me, his hands tender on my swollen belly.

The moonlight is dimming now, floorboards showing silvery scars before the shadows come to carpet them. My house is making soft