Word Count: 179
It was hard, oh so hard, to watch her children go to bed hungry. Every night, waiting, hoping that she could provide them with a meal that could fill their bellies for once. That they could sleep with satisfied smiles on their faces. That she could kiss them goodnight without worry about another stretched-to-the-edges new day.
The little one was whimpering. She picked him up, held him close, crooned him back to sleep with a lullaby she’d learned from her own mother. Paper thin walls, hollow-core doors, the people on the other side listening, uncaring.
She was getting desperate. And weak. What little was available she gave to the children, leaving only a few crumbs for herself.
Then one night, finally, she was blessed with opportunity. It sounded like voices just outside her door. A child’s tiny whine, a father’s reassurance.
And at last, she was ready when the closet door opened and a sleepy-eyed, tender and tasty little girl wiped her tears and a man pointed inside, about to say, “No monsters. See?”
