When did it happen? 

Was it recently or had it started a long time beforehand: slowly corrupting and defiling, gnawing away until ruination was complete?

Was it his fault?

Was it mine?

What, specifically, had I done?

Or what had I failed to do?

Something I had taken for granted?

Too much alcohol?

Not enough fruit?

Why me?

Why not the skanky tart in the house next door?

The drug-taking, boozy slag.  She abandons her kids (fathered by three different men), to bring themselves up while she parties.  Why should she be able to conceive and not me?


Word Count: 98

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.


44 thoughts on “Reflections

    • Clare Hempstead says:

      Hi Rochelle. Thanks for such a lovely comment. I’m sorry you experienced this – it must be awful. I think the last line is too long and the reader probably stalls over it. I will probably edit it when I can think of a better way of writing it!


      • ceayr says:

        Please feel free to delete this comment. Clare.
        If you really want to shorten the last line, I suggest you split it in two.
        Replace the first ‘Why should’ with, for example ‘Look at’, then put a full stop after ‘parties’.
        But it works as it is.

        Liked by 1 person

  1. Lynn Love says:

    So easy to let your mind wander down these routes when things go so badly – so easy to say why me, to feel the injustice of it. Very well summed up, Clare – you conveyed the sad, bitter feelings very well

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Life Lessons of a Dog Lover says:

    A powerful description of questioning and blaming. It could apply to a lot of things in life but your story is the most personal one. Well done.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. patriciaruthsusan says:

    I’m sure many women feel that way. I can imagine it’s heartbreaking. I’ve felt blessed as I had to have a blood transfusion with my first child, our son. They didn’t know about testing for aids in 1976. Some poor mothers and their children weren’t as fortunate. Good writing, Clare. —- Suzanne


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