I open the bedroom curtains.

Dawn seeps across the horizon. The long grass beneath the hive glistens with dew. Hand-trimming takes patience; this summer I’ve neglected the garden.

I straighten the sheet across your chest. The air cradles the sour milk and vinegar scent of the sickroom.

Downstairs, I fumble with the lock, step into the morning. My slippers absorb the damp. No matter, I have a task to perform. Before I call the doctor, your sister, our son.

I walk down the path, your black crepe bowtie dangling from my hand. There is news I must tell the bees.

— Previously published as a Highly Commended entry in the 100-Word Competition 2014 sponsored by National Flash Fiction Day; republished here by author’s permission

Angi Holden

moved to Cheshire (in northwestern England) in the mid-seventies as a newly qualified accountant, and three children later, finally graduated to Creative Writing. Her poems and stories for both adults and children have been published in anthologies and magazines, ranging from The Oxford Reading Tree and The Poetry Store to the Unviersity of Chester’s Flash and MMU’'s Muse. She is now an Associate Lecturer in the Department of Contemporary Arts at MMU Cheshire.

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⚡ National Flash Fiction Day, home of the annual 100-word flash competition, and publisher of the 2014 NFFD Anthology, Eating My Words, in which Angi Holden’s story also appears