Bjorn at dVerse has invited us to the challenge of a 144 word prose piece.
The village nightwatchman Dalmar was sitting at the crossroads, an auspicious place to be at that point in his life, on that evening. His neighbour Korfa appeared, which was not uncommon as they shared the role over the days, and company was helpful in defeating those drowsy spells into the long, lonely night. Naturally conversation turned from village life to family. And, as these things go, past the pleasantries about the elders and the movements of different ones in the coming days, conversation turned to the very matters at hand. Korfa enquired after Amina, Dalmar’s wife, and the progress with her pregnancy. “Well, any day now” laughed Dalmar, when, far away, an interrupted cry filled the night as the sound of a new born’s sucking lungs pierced the air. Korfa turned to Dalmar, but he was already running.
©Paul Vincent Cannon