48 comments

Nov 04, 2020

Sad Suspense Drama

Cupping my hands, I catch the thin stream of cool water from the faucet before splashing the pooled water on my face. Relishing its calming lick behind my ears, I take a moment in the silence of the empty department store bathroom - the quiet interrupted only by my ragged, watery breaths and the stale elevator music playing faintly on the speakers above.


Unsure if it’s water droplets, or leftover beads of cold sweat that now run down my nose and drip into the sink basin, I glance at the mirror and cringe at the nervous wreck of a man I see before me.


“Calm down, Henry,” I whisper to him. “You can handle this.”


Eight weeks. After years of dreaming and months of trying, there are only eight more weeks before I become a dad. I’ve always wanted to be a father - I've read every book on the subject. But today, strolling through these endless baby aisles, trying to decide between the most nutrient-rich formulas and greatest absorbency diapers, I realize that I have no idea what I’m doing. How am I going to take care of a baby?


Tearing a paper towel from the jaws of the dispenser and roughly drying my face, I leave the safety of the bathroom, eager to find Bug.


Searching aisle by aisle, I fight the butterflies in my stomach until I spot her near the strollers. Kneeling, of all things. Stubborn woman. Exhaling slowly through my nose, and putting on my most reassuring smile, I walk up behind her.


“We already have one of these, you know.”


Bug tosses a cheerful glance up over her shoulder before turning her attention back to the masterpiece in front of her.


“Are you sure, Henry? Because I have a feeling your mother won’t be happy if she finds out her first grandbaby doesn’t have the Silver Cross Luxury Stroller.” She giggles, gently tracing her fingers along the silver push bar of the extravagant stroller on the showcase platform.


“Yes, Bug,” I sigh. “I’m absolutely sure we don’t need another stroller. The one the Carson’s gave us will work just fine.”


Wrinkling her nose in contempt, she runs her palm gently along the white and blue gingham interior, admiring the soft satin as it caresses her fingers.


“Fine, I just hate thinking about having to put our baby in Olivia’s stupid stroller.”


I can’t help but laugh as Bug shoots me a playfully nasty pout. Even before the fire at the manor, she and Olivia never saw eye to eye. But after the investigator determined faulty electrical wiring near the fireplace to be the cause, Bug hadn’t wanted anything to do with the Carsons, despite their profuse apologies.


“I know you have your issues with the Carsons, but you have to admit – they were thoughtful in their gift.”


I bend down to help lift my very pregnant wife to her feet. Straining to pull her up from her kneeling position, I silently curse her incredible, unyielding spirit. Even at 31 weeks pregnant, she refuses to slow down and rest.


“Okay, up you go,” I groan, pulling her to her feet. “What’s next?”


“We need to get the paint, and then we’re done.”


My pulse quickens, and my palms begin to sweat at the mention of the paint. The two large cans of a mystery color – either a soft, pasture green or a daffodil yellow – will tell us if we’re having a girl or a boy. Green for a girl (Bug’s favorite color) and yellow for a boy (my favorite color). Other than our doctor, only the baby’s godmother knows what we’re having, and she placed the order for the paint.


“Henry?”


I hadn’t noticed Bug had already started walking towards the paint section.


“Sorry, I’m here.” I say, taking several quick steps to catch up with her.


“Are you alright? You look a little pale?”


“Yeah, honey. I’m fine, I just –”


Before I can explain my unusual behavior, Bug starts to cough.


“Babe? Are you okay?” I ask, gently placing my hand on her back, feeling her shoulder blades as they heave violently up and down.


“I’m fine,” she chokes, as another round of coughing takes over.


“Why don’t you go rest in the car. I’ll take the cart to get the paint and finish checking out.”


Bug smiles, as she catches her breath and wipes a tear from her watering eyes.


“Thanks.” She plants a light kiss on my cheek as she takes her purse and heads towards the parking lot. Her long, oaken ponytail sways as she walks, and the butterflies move from my stomach to my chest. She’s had a headache for a few days, but the coughing only started yesterday.


Once she disappears, I turn our loaded cart towards the paint section and find myself straining to keep it moving straight, the broken wheel letting out a high-pitched squeal with every step. But I don’t care. I only want, no – need – to get my hands on that paint.


“Excuse me?” I call out to the young woman as I approach the paint counter.


“Yes sir?”


“I’m here to pick up for Henry and Daniella Stowe?”


“Let me check on that, one moment.”


The girl clicks around in her computer, and I glance back at the full cart behind me. Several bundles of tiny diapers, a dozen brightly colored bibs and burping towels, disposable wipes and bum creams. Just the sight of it all once more making my head feel a bit fuzzy.


“Alright sir, looks like you have the two large cans of –”


“WAIT! No, stop!” I roar in a panic. “I can’t know what color they are. Isn’t there a note or something that says to keep the color a secret?”


The girl looks at me with wide eyes, clearly startled by my loud outburst. I feel bad for frightening her, but she had almost ruined the surprise.


“I-I’m sorry sir. There wasn’t a note in the file. I’ll scrape off the sample dot on the lid.”


I let out a sigh of relief and turn my back, listening to the metallic scraping as the girl chips away at the small dash of color on the top of the paint can lid.


“Okay, it’s gone. That’ll be $67.84.”


“Are you sure it’s ALL gone?”


“Yes sir, it’s gone.”


Hesitantly, I turn to see that she’s telling the truth. The aggressive scratch marks on the top of the can are all that’s left of the little dashes of paint that the mixer had dripped on the top to prove the final color.


“Can I pay for the rest of this here too?” I ask, gesturing to my full cart. The girl glances around nervously before agreeing and scanning my items, bagging them quickly and taking my card.


Eager to get home, I make my way quickly to the car, a sense of relief washing over me when I see Bug through the car window. She’s singing along to some song on the radio. Unable to stop the smile that spreads across my face, I stop to admire her from a distance. One hand on her giant belly, the other holds a small, purse-sized hairbrush like a microphone. Although I can’t hear her, I can imagine her melodic, if not slightly off-key alto voice filling the inside of our car. God, I love this woman.


Shoving our purchases in the trunk and returning the cart, I hop in the driver’s seat and lean over, pulling her face to mine and kissing her deeply. Her strawberry lip balm dances on my tongue and her vanilla shea butter plays in my nose.


“What was that for?” she laughs, pulling away.


“That was for the beautiful mother of my child.”


Bug smiles, and for a moment I swear I can see the faintest trace of a pale blush grace her cheek.


It only takes 15 minutes to make the drive from the department store to the house. After the devastating fire at the manor, and with a newly pregnant wife, I had taken it upon myself to find a quiet, safe home for us near the essentials, including the shopping districts.


“You go up to the nursery, Bug,” I say after putting the car in park in the garage. “I’ll carry these things in and I’ll be right up.”


She squeals with excitement before slamming the car door and waddling into the house. Unwilling to make multiple trips, I slide several bags onto each of my arms, tuck a box of diapers beneath each armpit, and carry a can of paint in each hand. Making it inside to the kitchen, I throw everything down but the paint, and run upstairs without bothering to close the garage door.


Bug is standing anxiously in the bare and empty nursery with a hammer in her hand.


“Are you ready?” she asks, giddy and unable to pull her gaze from the two cans.


Her eyes shine with anticipation, but all I can taste is a bitter dryness in my mouth as my feet pull me towards her, cans in hand. Blood pounds in my ears – I know that no matter what color this paint is, I’m going to love my child. My wife reaches out to take the first can, and as her fingers wrap around the wire handle, I notice a strange, splotchy redness on her arm.


“Honey, what’s that?”


Setting down the cans, I pull back the flowing cream sleeves of her maternity top and notice that a rash has broken out on both of her arms, covering her palms and wrists, traveling up to her elbows.


“What the –”


“Maybe we should call the doctor,” she says, confused.


Paint cans forgotten, I guide her down the stairs to the living room, helping her to get comfortable in a large, plush chair before grabbing the house phone and dialing up Doctor Robeson. Handing over the phone, I hold my breath and strain to hear the tiny voice on the other end of line, unable to make out his questions. But after a moment, Bug’s face drains of all color.


“No, actually, I haven’t,” she says after an extended silence. A single tear runs down her cheek.


“Bug? What’s wrong? What’s going on?”


She holds up a weak hand, and her eyes grow wide as the tiny voice continues to murmur rapidly in her ear. After a moment, she thanks the doctor and hangs up the phone before growing still.


They say that there is calm before every storm. A peaceful quiet unlike any other, where the winds are still, and the breeze is sweet. But in my wife’s eyes I can see thunderclouds, darker and more menacing than any I’ve seen before. A chill runs down my spine. I’m afraid.


“Hospital,” she murmurs.


With one word, my sky splits open. The winds howl, thunder crashes, and rain pours inside my mind. I don’t need to know what’s wrong to know that I need to get her help, and I need to get it now.


Picking her up the way I did on our wedding night, I carry her to the car, placing her gently in the front seat as tears stream down her solemn face. Keys still in my pocket and garage door still open, I don’t waste time locking up the house.


Bug is silent on the six-minute drive to the hospital. I ask twice what the little voice said to her, but she doesn’t answer. She doesn’t need to. I already know.


I leave the car idling as I help her walk into the Emergency Room, a team of nurses already waiting with a wheelchair – Doctor Robeson had called ahead. As we hurry through the double doors towards a private room, I’m hit by the strong taste of disinfectant and squint under the fluorescent lighting – those butterflies are back, but they’ve been replaced by something far more sinister, and I use every ounce of strength I have left to avoid vomiting from my own anxiety as the nurses help my wife into a gown and onto a hospital bed


Where are they taking us?


They’re all talking at the same time. Asking ten different questions at once. I can see their lips moving but their voices sound very far away. All I can seem to focus on is my wife’s scared eyes and tear-stained cheeks as she chokes out responses to their questions as quickly as she can.


I am helpless.


“Sir? Sir, please step this way behind the glass.”


I don’t register the nurse’s voice until I feel his hand on my shoulder, pulling me backwards, away from my wife. We’re in a small, dark room with machinery. Another woman is lifting Bug’s shirt and smearing a gel on her stomach.


“What are they doing? An ultrasound?”


“Yes, sir.”


“I’m not leaving.”


“We’re just stepping out of the way.”


Allowing him to guide me to a place nearby, I watch, and listen. For several minutes the nurse passes the doppler wand over Bug’s stomach, furrowing her brow deeper and deeper before looking up and giving the faintest shake of her head.


“What does that mean?”


The man beside me ignores my question, and trades places with the younger woman. After a moment, it becomes clear that he isn’t having any luck finding whatever it is he’s looking for.


“What’s going on?”


The younger nurse hesitates, and glances at me quickly before looking away and busying her hands with random boxes and papers on the desk beside us.


“We’re having trouble locating the heartbeat. We may need to think about an emergency C-section.”


The fluttering in my stomach stops. The pounding in my head stops. It all stops.


“You mean, today?”


“I mean right now.”


Looking over at Bug, I see fear.


“Can I go to her now?” I ask.


“We’ll take you both to a room.”


Holding her hand as we’re taken to a room, the nurses start an IV, take some blood, and let us know a doctor will be in soon. Once they leave, Bug and I sit in silence. After a moment I turn to her.


“Honey, are you alright?” I ask. She doesn’t answer, instead staring down at her stomach, caressing it with her hands.


“Dani?”


At the use of her name, she glances up at me, tears in her eyes.


“We didn’t even open the paint, Henry.”


My eyes fill with fire as I hold back the tears I so desperately want to let out. “Everything will be alright, Dani, I’m sure that –”


Interrupted by a knock at the door, a middle-aged woman enters, carrying a file and followed by three nurses.


“Daniella Stowe? I understand we’re having a bit of trouble hearing the baby?”


“Yes, and I’ve developed a cough, a rash, and a headache over the past few days. And I haven’t felt it move in…in…”


“Okay sweetie, just relax. We’re going to do everything we can to help you out. It does look like we’re going to need to take you in for an emergency C-section this afternoon. Roger will go through the details of the procedure while I get ready.”


Roger talks us through the process. It’s supposed to only take 15 minutes. Bug will be awake. I’ll be in the room. After asking us if we have any more questions, Roger wheels Bug to an operating theatre, and I follow, holding her hand as tightly as I can.


The doctor’s already in her surgical cap, surrounded by a team of nurses in lavender scrubs. There’s a seat for me near Bug's head behind a large curtain divider, keeping us from seeing the operation. After they prepare, they tell me it’s time to begin. I’m going to be a dad in 15 minutes.


But 15 minutes goes by. Then 20 minutes goes by. After 25 minutes, I know something’s wrong. The doctor’s voice is tense. The nurses aren’t making eye contact with us anymore, and they are growing frantic. Voices are getting louder. Bug is crying.


“Where’s our baby?” I finally have the courage to ask from behind the curtain divider.


Slowly, one of the nurses lowers the curtain to reveal the doctor surrounded by four nurses all huddled over a small table across the room.


“Daniella, Henry, we’re doing everything we can to help right now,” says the nurse beside us.


“Help?” I whimpered, any trace of strength gone from my voice.


“The baby didn’t have a heartbeat, and we’re doing everything we can to find it.”


“I need to see the baby,” cries Bug, “please.”


“The doctor is doing her best, Daniella.”


“No…no!” cries Bug, as her wails fill the room. “Please bring me my baby!”


My knees go weak, and I fall back into my chair. I see Dani trying to stand and reach over, holding her down.


“No, Henry! Let me go!”


“Please Dani,” I cry, “there’s nothing we can do, you have to let them help us.” She collapses back onto the table, sobbing.


After several chaotic minutes that feel like hours, the room goes quiet.


Still.


Two of the younger nurses leave quickly, but they can’t hide the tears in their eyes. From the tables and machines across the room, the doctor stands behind two nurses. She turns to us, approaching slowly with deep regret in her eyes.


“I am so sorry,” she says.


Dani lets out a heartbreaking wail. I can no longer hold back my tears.


“Would you like some time with the baby?”


Her words slide down my body as the full weight of their implication crushes any remaining hope. I look over at my wife. She’s inconsolable, so I answer for her, nodding. The doctor beckons the nurses, who bring over and place in my shaky arms, for the first and last time, a very small, very still bundle of pale, pink blankets.

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48 comments

Lina Ozz
03:54 Nov 05, 2020

Aj, this is beautiful. I could feel the pain of the couple, and the detail you include in this story is just incredible. Your ability to have multiple perspectives for all your stories in the form of very different narrators just speaks to your strength of a writer! My favorite (and most heartbreaking) section: "They say that there is calm before every storm. A peaceful quiet unlike any other, where the winds are still, and the breeze is sweet. But in my wife’s eyes I can see thunderclouds, darker and more menacing than any I’ve seen b...

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Lina Ozz
03:56 Nov 05, 2020

Also, I just noticed my name on your bio––what the heck!! You are too unbelievably kind. Much love.

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04:13 Nov 05, 2020

Lina!!! Thank you so much for your kind feedback! That was my favorite passage to write - so I’m thrilled that it stood out to you. And yes - GREAT catch on the tense. I’m going to go in there and update tonight. As you know I’m still getting used to present-tense writing...one of these days those past-tense phrases will stop slipping out *facepalm* As always, your feedback and critique is not only inspiring, but helpful and instructive. I appreciate you! And yes - your story is from last week is one of my favorites!!!

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Lina Ozz
04:16 Nov 05, 2020

I can very much relate to that! I'm the opposite––whenever I attempt a story in the past tense, I always have to go back and change my present tense slip-ups! Your present tense writing is getting so good––seriously. And ah, thank you so, so much!! I'm so glad you liked it! Ugh. I haven't even attempted this week's prompts. Crossing my fingers some last-minute inspiration strikes...

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04:18 Nov 05, 2020

I feel you. I’m trying to put out at least two, if not three, per week. But I just haven’t had the inspiration strike for any of the others yet. I may do another fluff piece like Seasonal Allergies (which, ironically, people seemed to enjoy the most lol) for one of the others. This one was pretty heavy - it drained me :/ Good luck! If I miss your story this week come back here and let me know so I can come over and check it out!

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Lina Ozz
14:09 Nov 05, 2020

I love the “fluff” pieces - Seasonal Allergies is hilarious! Haha I think those types of humorous/satirical pieces make 2020 bearable perhaps...

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Shea Redmond
02:58 Nov 05, 2020

As a Doula/Birthworker, I support families who have experienced this very thing. There is nothing to describe the unexpected loss of baby so late in pregnancy. I really loved the balance you created of his excitement of parenthood, and intermittent fear. Also that very true feeling some parents battle with, "Are we gonna have a boy or girl, and what if I'm not happy with what we get." You wrote this so well, it was like you were a fly on the wall of a couple about to become parents. (One technical thing I would point out and don't hate me...

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03:19 Nov 05, 2020

Wow Shea thank you so much for the kind feedback! I have been there for several pregnancies of close family/friends so can empathize in a limited way, but am thrilled to hear that from your professional experience the details are believable! And thank you for the tip about the deviation from a normal Cesarean in a case like this...I’ll need to mull this over for a day or two and think about how and if I can re-write this portion. I so appreciate your insight!!! And thank you for the work you so comforting families who go through devastati...

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Shea Redmond
04:27 Nov 05, 2020

If you did decide to re-write- Often times in loss like this where baby is delivered in an emergency Cesarean baby can still be brought to the room for the family. Partner normally waits in recovery for the person delivering. It's all so delicate and fragile and intricate at the same time, childbirth. You really did a nice job catching the essence of it💙

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05:01 Nov 05, 2020

Thank you Shea! I’ll take all of this into consideration when thinking about re-writes. At the very least, I put together an anthology of my short stories for the year for family and friends and will be rewriting for the anthology even if I can’t update the story here on Reedsy before the deadline. I may end up reaching back out to you at some point for additional information.

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Shea Redmond
17:50 Nov 05, 2020

That's really cool that you are making an anthology! Reach out any time :)

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Faith Foster
21:59 Nov 18, 2020

Awesome writing. This had me in tears.

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23:45 Nov 18, 2020

This was definitely a difficult piece to put into words. Thanks for reading Faith!

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Faith Foster
05:32 Nov 19, 2020

I just went to read the first part of this story, Honey and Lavender, and I still think that this one is more emotional and wonderfully well written. Maybe because I am a mother, so I could relate to the whole situation. You have included some very real first-time-parent feelings and situations in this story, leading up to every parent’s greatest fear. I liked how the story was told from the man’s point of view. I also liked how you included a little echo of the first story when he pulls his wife up to help her, like she pulled him up to ...

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05:50 Nov 19, 2020

Wow - Faith I’m so moved that you went back and read the first piece! Thank you for taking the time to read my stories - it means quite a lot. And your feedback and reactions to the piece further help me in seeing what works well for the audience. I’m so appreciative. You’re amazing!

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Greta Faignant
04:57 Nov 17, 2020

This was a beautifully written story. It really speaks to me. I can relate to it, as I lost a little brother before he was born. I am an only child now. You did a fantastic job.

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06:04 Nov 17, 2020

Thank you for your kind words Greta, I so appreciate you taking the time to read through and leave your thoughts - and thank you for sharing your story as well. What a heartbreaking situation.

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H.l Whitlock
09:59 Nov 12, 2020

Beautiful detail, well constructed. The feeling of pressure and dread there from the start building towards the end. And that gender reveal that the story had been building towards happening like that! Oh! I feel emotional.

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01:40 Nov 15, 2020

I played around with the timing of the reveal for quite a while - it took me some tome before settling on the very end. I’m glad it had the intended impact! Thanks for reading through and commenting - it’s so appreciated!

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H.l Whitlock
11:54 Nov 15, 2020

You did a great job of it well done :)

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06:37 Nov 08, 2020

Okay Aj I wanted a continuation...but this broke my heart!😭 Honestly it never really crosses my mind how many people lose their child. And your story just opened my eyes to the possibilities and how it could just randomly happen to anyone. I loved the new point of view it was nice to read from a guys perspective. Once again it was really really sad and emotional because of the way you wrote each word you wrote left a deep impact. I really just loved it and hopefully if you do write a third part I would love to see how they heal from this. ...

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06:54 Nov 08, 2020

You are so kind! Thank you for reading! This was a tough story to write - but you’re correct. This type of heartbreak can happen, and does happen, to families all over the world with more frequency than I think people realize. Thanks for leaving your commentary - I so appreciate it <3

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19:28 Nov 08, 2020

Of course, anytime!! And sadly yes! Oh do you mind checking out my stories I would love to hear your feedback!

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19:42 Nov 08, 2020

Absolutely! You’re on my list for today/tomorrow!

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Yolanda Wu
09:39 Nov 06, 2020

I love the excitement of the parents at the beginning. You did well at starting with the little things that went wrong like the coughing and the headache, which has me questioning what is going to happen next, because I had that sense of foreboding that the ending was going to be sad. And it wasn't just sad, it was heartbreaking - I cannot imagine the pain parents go through at the loss of the child, especially when they already have everything prepared. You did so well with the descriptions, and the end part was so intense, I literally had ...

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18:06 Nov 06, 2020

Thank you so much Yolanda! Although the contents of the story were heartbreaking, as an author I'm pleased that the story had the intended emotional effect on the reader. I appreciate you taking the time, as always, to read through and leave a comment. Yes! I will head over and check out your work!

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22:10 Nov 04, 2020

Warning: This story deals with sensitive topics, including the loss of a child. This story was written as a continuation of the "Honey & Lavender" story but can be read as a standalone.

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Laura Miller
01:19 Nov 15, 2020

Beautiful... made me cry.

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14:08 Nov 09, 2020

All I have to say: much sadness. :( But seriously! You built an excellent emotional connection with Bug and Henry, and I thought the way you expressed their emotions was both fresh, and beautiful. The plotting and foreshadowing, also excellent. Critiques? There were a few very minor flow and grammar items I caught, but they were really inconsequential. Great work! You made me feel emotional through a short story! Hard to do in a full-length novel, even harder in under 3,000 words. Keep on writing!

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01:41 Nov 15, 2020

Thank you Leo! I’m just now seeing this comment. This was a really tough one to write. I’m thrilled the emotion I felt while writing came through to you. As always, I appreciate you reading through and leaving your thoughts/reaction. You are appreciated!

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02:17 Nov 15, 2020

I love reading your work. :) Any ideas what you might do for this week?

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03:00 Nov 15, 2020

Honestly I haven’t even read the prompts yet! I was able to slide in one more submission for last week (Siren of Avonmora - a replacement for BoGG) so I might not have quite as many this week - I’ll be looking into them tomorrow!

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03:19 Nov 15, 2020

I didn’t see the new story! On my way!

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B. W.
19:05 Nov 07, 2020

hey, ill give this a 10/10 :)

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19:45 Nov 07, 2020

Thanks!

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B. W.
19:52 Nov 07, 2020

No prob, ya deserve it ^^ hey if ya dont mind me asking, could ya maybe check out one of my recent stories "Saving a friend" and then leave some feedback/critique on it? I'd love to see what ya have to say for it.

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Andrew Krey
17:51 Nov 05, 2020

Hi AJ, despite the subject matter being so sad, the story was enjoyable. You build our connection with the couple well at the beginning, so the bad news hits us harder as the reader. Well done.

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18:27 Nov 05, 2020

Hi Andrew - thanks for reading through and leaving your thoughts! It is much appreciated. This was definitely a tough one to write.

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Andrew Krey
18:36 Nov 05, 2020

You're welcome :)

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02:16 Nov 05, 2020

Woahhhhhhh a continuation, huzzah for Aj! I loved this story (tho, I think I liked the first one more) and I think the expression is really emotional and deep and I love how you portrayed it. Thank you for another wonderful read! :)

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03:16 Nov 05, 2020

Thank you Jasey! I’m so grateful that you took the time to read and leave your thoughts! I also have to admit I love the first part of Henry and Bug’s love story - moments like these are always hard to process. And even harder to write. I appreciate you!

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03:21 Nov 05, 2020

Thank you so much, keep up the amazing work! :D

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02:08 Nov 05, 2020

Very nice job.

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03:14 Nov 05, 2020

Thank you Catarina :)

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Aveena Bordeaux
02:08 Nov 05, 2020

Gah, Aj! I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel tears behind my eyes. This was so sad and even more so when you wrote the previous story and we got to build a connection. They're going through so much, I just want to help them. Nothing to critique here or maybe I'm too sad to find anything, no but seriously, I hope you get shortlisted. Great job!

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03:14 Nov 05, 2020

Thank you Joy! I so struggled to write this story - it took me several days fighting with myself to put it out there. Henry and Bug (aka Dani) have quite a road in front of them. Thank you so much for your kind words, and for taking the time to read and comment. As always, you are appreciated!

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S. K.
03:01 Nov 20, 2020

This is an amazing story. your descriptions, especially of emotions, are stunning. and what a sad ending! i usually can't handle sad stories but i liked this one. keep up the good work :-)

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05:18 Nov 20, 2020

Thank you so much! I'm thrilled you connected with the heavy emotions in this particular story - it was an incredibly difficult one to write. And I'm so appreciative of you taking the time to not only read through but to leave your thoughts as well! You're awesome!

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