She shut her eyes against the sunlight filtering in from the closed curtains. The sound of the ball being bounced about in the tennis court brought on a pounding headache-the kind she was quite prone to now.
She looked at her son’s peaceful face as he snored gently, the carefree sleep of an eight year old. They had been at this for the past five days; having a party all night, walking the lawns, sighting the moon, listening to the waves crash on the boulders. And then sleeping away for the most part of the day.
Trying to shut out the memories of her husband, his father. Hearing his baritone above the sound of the ball. Of his scream as he jumped from the balcony. They had been asleep but she heard the final cry as he plunged seven stories to the concrete floor below.
“Mom”, he cried in his sleep, sobbing imperceptibly. “No, don’t push, Mom”.
Word Count: 158
Posted in response to the flash fiction challenge hosted by Priceless Joy- Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers . The photo prompt is used to write a short story of 100-150 words.