Where the Blackbird Sings

PROSE – FLASH FICTION

The ice was perched in the corner of the window. The panes rattled from the wind. The candle’s flame danced in the reflection. Yet, there was a stillness outside that only the cold brings. Nothing moving, not a stir, just the glow of the predator’s stare from the shadows. He could see me just as well as I could see him. Mother’s cough perforated the silence. This was a bad one; you could tell by the sound it was down deep. She had barely moved in the last couple of days. Her skin had become a ghastly pale shade. The Doctor had stopped by earlier on his way to town. His expression didn’t look good, but his remarks were hopeful. Mother was as tough as they come and had made it through some of the most demanding times life had to offer. I just hoped she could find a bit of rest in her sleep. I pulled my blanket tight as the window’s rattle and the wind’s howl served as a lullaby.