Small Comforts

Small Comforts

Cara dropped onto her bed, tugging the blanket over her shoulders as weariness pinned her to the mattress. Sleep soon began to smother her thoughts. She welcomed its oblivion after the backbreaking work of the day.

The voice of the new girl jolted her back to awareness.

She was tempted to respond – irritably – but tiredness held her silent. She gritted her teeth, trying not to listen as the girl whined about the harsh conditions and the uncomfortable bed. At least the brat had a bed, as hard as the thing might be. She ought to just be thankful for that and save her whinging for the issues that actually mattered… Unfortunately, the girl would probably be learning about those soon enough.

Cara pulled her blanket over her head. She’d spent too many nights huddled in whatever shelter she could find, with only newspapers and a thin coat for warmth, to not be thankful for the small comforts she’d been granted. At least here they were out of the elements. And away from the predatory men who stalked the city streets.

Most of them, anyway.

The new girl fell finally silent as the door creaked open. Heavy footsteps crossed the room.

Word Count: 2oo

That story suddenly became far darker than I intended it to be. $:\$

Sorry

The picture is another one taken at the Southwell Workhouse. I think the light and the bleak setting tends to lend itself well to black and white photography. And to rather dark stories.