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Lost and Found (a short story)

I wrote this last year in my Creative Writing class. I have no memory of actually writing this but I remember the only thing the teacher gave us for the prompt was the title “Lost and Found” and for some reason this is how I interpreted it. So…enjoy. Or don’t enjoy. I suppose that’s up to you. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, wrapping his arms around my waist. He pressed his cheek against mine. Warm tears flowed down my cheeks, filling the gaps between our faces. I sighed shakily, turning away from him. I placed my hands over his, silently willing him to hold me tighter.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. I looked down, staring at the ultrasound picture in front of me. Without thinking, I placed one hand on my stomach, hoping to feel her kick one last time, but there was nothing there anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He nuzzled my neck for some time before releasing me. He took a seat next to me at the kitchen table. I picked up the picture with both hands, running my thumbs across the glossy paper. It was the closest I would get to holding her. Tears pooled up under my chin, finally landing on the paper in heavy drops. The picture was already soaking up the water. It would wrinkled soon, and then it would just be another part of her that I had ruined.

“It wasn’t your fault, Hannah,” he yelled, as if he had read my thoughts. He exhaled loudly, angrily. He grabbed me by the wrist. I didn’t look at him. “Babe, it’s been four months. I think it’s time we move on. This isn’t good for you. This isn’t what she would have wanted–”

“How would you know?” I shouted at him. “You’ve never met her! Neither of us have. And because of my stupid mistake we never will! Don’t act like you know what’s best for me. You don’t know how I feel.” I buried my face in my hands.

“She was my daughter too, Hannah. You don’t think I’m still sad? You don’t think I pray for her every night? You don’t think I miss her just as much as you do? But I moved on, Hannah. God helped me move on.”

“God doesn’t exist!” I shouted back at him. “If he did, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Everything happens for a reason.” He said calmly. I could feel him staring at me. I looked up at him. He smiled at me, cupping my face with one hand. He planted a soft kiss on my forehead.

“I don’t understand. What reason does He have for killing an innocent child?” He frowned.

“That’s the funny thing about God. We don’t always know why He does things, but we know it’s always for the best. If we hadn’t lost her, we wouldn’t have known about your condition. You would have both died before she was full term.” I sniffled, looking down at the picture again. My guardian angel. 

I love and hate this. It’s full of cliches and poorly written but its totally different than anything I’d written before this class. 

This post formerly said: I forgot to blog again but I hafta take a shower but I wanted to post a post before midnight. So I’m gonna post this post as cheat so I can say I posted, then go back and replace these words with better words that are more interesting. Get it? Got it? Good.

3 thoughts on “Lost and Found (a short story)

  1. Ooh, controversial. I’d like to believe “everything happens for a reason,” but to what extent? Humans have freewill, after all (although that’s debatable depending on what your beliefs are). Natural disasters are things out of control, but what about finding love? Some people believe in soulmates while others think it’s a bunch of crap. It’s little things like this that make you question whether it was all a huge coincidence or destiny.

    Yeah, your story was depressing, but it was also deep and made my brain juice flow, so nicely done.

    Like

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