A Memoir by A. L. Smith

Silent and still in my arms, I can feel you. The hospital bracelet circles your ankle with a name you will never answer to. Your body is limp, your skin pallid. My heart beats wildly; yours is still. They say I can hold you as long as I want. No one will take you from me. I gaze into your face: so small. You never opened your eyes. I wonder what color they were. My body shakes, my mind is filled with endless buzzing. Someone is screaming.

My Beloved. The hospital room is bleak. There is no joy here, no laughter, no congratulations. But you are here, in my arms. They are starting to ache. For such a little one, you are heavy. But I keep holding you. Daddy is here, too. You look like him. He tells me I am the one screaming. Everyone wants me to stop. How can I stop when I never knew I started? I must be going mad.

My Beloved. Now I know why I am screaming. I am shattered without you. Clutching you, I beg you to awaken. Open your eyes. Move. Anything. My arms grow numb with fatigue as my vision blurs with tears. Of course I am crying. What else can I do? I pull you closer, kiss your head. You have dark hair, just like Daddy. Don’t worry, little one, I will never let you go.

My Beloved. They took you from me. Everything went numb. My arms are eerily empty. Who am I without you? A body torn apart. Empty of a future. A childless mother.

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A. L. Smith is a writer based in Washington state, publishing across creative nonfiction, poetry, horror, and speculative fiction. Her work has appeared in Blood+Honey, Harrow House Journal, Nocturne Ash, Static in Our Stars, and in the horror anthology The Fear Driver 2 from Dragon Soul Press. She writes primarily at the intersection of personal narrative and the uncanny, with a focus on short literary forms.