Wednesday's Words on a Friday

 The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles. Sadly, Delores has now closed her blog forever due to other problems.

The aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.

If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along to read it and add a few encouraging words.

This month the words/prompts are supplied by Charlotte and can be found here

This week's words/prompts are:

1.peach  2.granola bowl  3.idea  4.wood  5.sad

and/or:

1.turn  2.scarecrow  3.flowers  4.cauldron  5.hot  6.bubble

Here is my story:

Erin slowly stirred the cauldron of peaches that would magically turn into jam, watching the surface as each hot bubble popped. Maggie had sent Susan and Jenny for more wood to keep the fire going under it, and talked to Erin as she stirred, all the while watching carefully.

She talked of memories, her favourite granola bowl from early childhood, the scarecrow her grandfather had stood in the ripening fields to keep the crows from eating the wheat, laughing gently at the idea that such a thing would actually stop the birds, marking the time with a scratch on the wall each time Erin winced.

Labour had begun, though Erin might not have realised just yet, each niggling contraction being small and far apart. Maggie spoke of being sad when her grandfather had died, saying we all get a turn at life, just like the flowers in the spring, gathering cloths and tying a rope to the bedstead for Erin to grip when the time came. She took a turn at the cauldron, sending Erin to look outside to see if Susan and Jenny were on their way back.

“Take a walk around outside the hut, and breathe deeply”, said Maggie noticing a faint sheen of sweat as the next pain hit a little harder. She remembered Granny telling her Aunt Celia that walking and gravity were good at this stage, Maggie had been very young at the time but remembered how calm her Granny had been while helping Aunt Celia.

She was determined to give Erin as much of that calm as she could and hoped Susan and Jenny would soon be back. They could help with wiping Erin’s face with cool cloths and rubbing her back. Dana carried in the basket Rufus had finished weaving, now filled with swathes of soft fabrics to nestle the baby into. “It’s coming on faster now,” she told Maggie, having seen Erin hunched with pain and realising at last what was happening.

She walked back in, hands cradling her belly, smiling through the pain of the next contraction, knowing she would soon be holding her baby. “Run to the smokehouse and bring Russell now,” Maggie said to Dana.