Scribes Valley Publishing
They had waited before, waited to see if the damage done was too great to even think of recovery, it was, but it did not matter. What mattered was the memory of her hugging him tight as they realized, as the tests came in, that her only son was almost gone from her reach: lost - every Mother's deepest fears.
It was radiation that stole him--a health risk not dealt with. Eight years of age--a tragic death. His last wish--a memory.
Of Utopia...
by Catriona Biggs, London, EnglandHe could not read French, but he understood it. Pauvre Pierre. The willowy thin, young mother embraced her young son, and Frank translated to his girlfriend, who was looking at him with a quizzical expression.
"Poor Pierre," said Frank distantly.
"What?" asked Frank's girlfriend Tracy.
"Our cakes are mixed up. That's what the boy's mother is going on about."
"Well, you should be happy then, because you have an expensive cake now. Its even raspberry filled. Poor Pierre has a vanilla cake. Honestly, how should he know the difference at five?"
"Tracy?"
"What?"
"How did these delicious confections make their way into a McDonald's?"
"I don't know," said Tracy confused.
by April McCullar, Archibald, LA"Okay, who was in charge of candles?" he asked the group gathered around the table.
His mother held up her hand. "Me!"
"Mom, I'm only fifteen years old."
She squinted across the mass of burning candles. "Frank! Oh, I'm so sorry! I guess I thought this was my father's birthday!"
Frank sighed. "Mom, Grandpa isn't three hundred and twenty years old, either."
His mother frowned. "Really? Gee, I wonder whose birthday I thought this was?"
by Phillip Lynne, Knoxville, TN"It's in the driveway," his mother said softly in his ear.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"It's five years ago," she replied.
"But, I hit you... when I backed out..."
"I'm alive, Frank. This time, I promise I will not stand in your way, not for anything you want to do!"
by Carolyn Ann Aish, Inglewood, New Zealand