What can I write about a rainbow? Here’s my take on the picture for Madison Woods’ Friday Fictioneers.
Merciless rain pelted the Conestoga’s canvas roof. Tildy’s stomach swelled and roiled with each pitch and sway.
Three-year-old Jonas whimpered in her arms. Like periwinkle marbles, his eyes rolled in aimless delirium. She almost welcomed his fevered warmth in the penetrating damp.
The wagon lurched and stopped. Smelling of horses, leather and wet denim Noel slipped through the narrow opening. In silence, his vigilant eyes on his son, he nestled under the blanket beside her.
Tildy woke to hushed sunlight. Her baby was gone.
Outside, naked as dawn, Jonas hopped and pointed at the rainbow. “Ma! Pa! Angels came!”