# Jenny (819 Words)



## EBKMSC (Dec 22, 2014)

I wrote this in the time it took me to warm up a can of soup...
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She was so soft in my arms, lying there with her eyes closed and at peace. It felt like the first time I had ever held her, in the bed after I gave birth to her. At first the newborn had cried, so long ago, but now she was the quietest of babies. In her peace I placed her back into the crib and left the room.

In the hall I looked to my room where my husband was reading a book. I had loved that man for so long, had given him everything for so many years. It was hard to think about where we were now. The two of us had been grinding like gears meant to fit each other but had rusted through negligence and lack of a good oiling.
                As I stood in the quiet of the hall reflecting on my marriage, the door behind me creaked open. I turned and found her peeking out at me. She had the quirkiest of smiles plastered across her face and I knew exactly what she wanted. I took her hand, so small in mine, and led her to the kitchen. After setting her on a chair at the table, I found the milk and cookies.

We shared a few of the cookies with a glass of milk. As the little girl sat there I thought of how much she meant to me. She looked exactly how I had imagined her when she was a baby; long blonde hair, small button nose flanked by the bluest of eyes. Tiny freckles spotted her cheeks. A dribble of milk ran down her chin and I wiped it off, finding more joy in the act than anything I had ever done before.

Regretfully, after splitting one last cookie, I sent her back to bed. She was a growing girl and needed her beauty sleep. After wiping the crumbs off the counter and depositing the glasses in the sink, I hugged myself and shivered even though the house was warm. Memories flooded into me, things I shouldn’t have been able to remember.

I shook these thoughts from my head and a lone tear ran down my cheek. Without realizing how, I found myself in the living room. There was a girl, about sixteen years old, sleeping on the couch with headphones playing music that blocked the rest of the world out. Her hair was short cut and dyed orange. If she were awake and could smile up at me, I imagined I would see her eyes sparkling in the dark. The freckles on her face quite pronounced after a day in the sun.

I lifted the headphones from her ears and ruffled her hair gently. It was odd seeing her with short, orange hair. I was so used to the long flowing locks, so light in color. She was her own person though, and despite my wanting different for her, she had insisted. Admittedly, I had fun dying it for her. I turned from the couch and entered the hall once more.

Another cold chill ran down my spine. I hugged myself once more but the warmth in my arms did nothing because the chill didn’t come from the air around me. Shivers racked me as I took another step down the hall. Every night was the same thing as I was constantly assailed by these impossible thoughts and accompanying cold chills.

I stopped in front of her door again. Dare I peek in and risk waking her again? I thought for a moment then finally decided that the risk would always be worth one more look at her beautiful face. I grabbed the handle but before I could open the door, another hand grabbed mine. I jumped in surprise.

My husband stood next to me, concern painted on his face. He was shaking his head in disappointment but I couldn’t 
understand why. I tried to turn the knob but his hand was strong. “No, Jenny.”

Tears burst forth and my knees buckled. Why wouldn’t he let me see my daughter? Every night he did this; it was one of the reasons I hated him so much. Through blurred eyes I looked up at my husband and found caring eyes set under furrowed brows of gray. He lifted me from my knees and gently pressed his hand to my face.

“Love, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.” His voice was deep and full of love.

I shook my head and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I’m just going to check on the baby, there’s nothing to worry about, Honey.”

His hand lifted off mine but then his arm wrapped around my shoulder. He pulled me close and held me, but then relented. I turned to the door and pushed it open, silently stepping into the room. My husband’s sigh from behind me shook me to the core. The crib was empty.


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## Apex (Dec 23, 2014)

EBKMSC said:


> I wrote this in the time it took me to warm up a can of soup...
> ________________________________________________
> *
> She was so soft in my arms, lying there with her eyes closed and at peace. It felt like the first time I had ever held her,* in the bed after I gave birth to her. At first the newborn had cried, so long ago, but now she was the quietest of babies. In her peace I placed her back into the crib and left the room.
> ...



Well written. The first sentence, and a half, had me thinking this was a man, and a women. The second half of the second sentence showed me it was a mother, and her baby. This first sentence distracted my reading. I like the story, it is well written. The first sentence...needs to be very clear who the two are.


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## Firemajic (Dec 23, 2014)

I was not expecting this...Wow...Easy to read, well thought out,this is really very good. A haunting story on many levels. Thank you for sharing your story with me.  Peace always...Julia


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## EBKMSC (Dec 23, 2014)

Thank you both for reading, it means a lot. As for the first few sentences, I kinda wanted this to be a thinker so I steered away from the obvious routes of introduction


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## drumzii (Jan 8, 2015)

Wow. Thanks for sharing this with me.

Unbelievable that you wrote it in such a short space of time! Thoroughly enjoyed this, although had to read the first bit twice to understand who the two people were haha

A great read. I agree with the comment about it being a 'thinker'


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## Laughing Duck 137z (Jan 11, 2015)

Very good, you kinda hinted the ending early on but I noticed that on my second read.

The only thing I noticed was: each time she had a chill you wrote she hugged herself. Maybe the first time she is resisting her natural reaction to the chill and she would feel it down to her finger tips.

Im not good about voicing my opinion but hope I helped.


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## aureliochavez (Jan 12, 2015)

very good had me thinking


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## Burroughs (Jan 12, 2015)

Great short story. Was extremely easy to read and very enjoyable. Brilliant ending, wasn't expecting it!


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## aureliochavez (Jan 12, 2015)

Great piece. I, too, was confused in the beginning about the roles, and also thought that the baby was an infant until being led into the kitchen for milk and cookies, but very well written.


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## EBKMSC (Jan 12, 2015)

Thanks for the kind words everyone! As for the baby, all versions of the girl besides the baby are imaginary. The baby is dead now but the only version of her daughter she ever saw


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## thebookdesigncompany (Jan 23, 2015)

Fantastic and heartbreaking. I liked the ambiguity in the beginning, not knowing exactly who the people are - it clears up quite quickly, and I think the ambiguity drives the first few sentences.


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## JustRob (Jan 27, 2015)

EBKMSC said:


> ... the quietest of babies. In her peace ...


For me the word "In" at the beginning of that sentence overruled the preceding full stop and the resultant phrase meant only one thing. Anticipating the ending I had to share the woman's grief throughout and was unable to read all the way to the end, being as soft as that baby I suppose. I did read the last sentence just to confirm my expectations. Was this early signal a conscious or subconscious act on your part? Perhaps it's an unavoidable aspect of writing, that because we are thinking ahead our fickle subconscious writes ahead of what we mean to express, telegraphing our intentions in the process. 
What I could bring myself to read seemed silky smooth, reflecting the woman's flow of love for her child. My feeling about the writing reflected the feeling that you were attempting to convey, quite convincingly. Perhaps that's the real art, making the language reflect the feelings regardless of the words, if you see what I mean.
I guess my analysis of how and why I anticipated the ending reveals the fact that I'm not really a writer at all but an information technologist. IT seems to be a good grounding for writing though, surprisingly.

Rob


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## Jaysen (Feb 21, 2015)

The sentence structure was a little weird in the first paragraph, but after that it was fine. Very fluid piece and had a surprise twist in the end!


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