I was cleaning out some old boxes of documents and found this snippet. It is a fictionalized account of the day of my miscarriage. It needs some work, but I think it has potential as the kernel of a horror story (which is where I think I was going with it). What do you think?
The Sorrow Beneath the Water
She remembers the shock of sorrow as she wraps another mug with old newspaper. Lying there on that cold bed in that cold room looking at the barely formed image on the screen of the new dead fetus, curled up with a heart that beats no more.
On that day, the world imploded.
On that day, she was sucked into a black hole that was now tugging at her as she packed her things to move.
Soon she would start afresh. But today she had to pack and, apparently, release the never to be born child.
The cramps came slowly, like scouts checking out the territory. The kitchen was done by the time the pain made her take notice.
She walked into the living room where her best friend was helping her pack.
“It’s time,” she said.
She nodded and placed her hand on her belly. The life was gone, but the soul was nearby.