Writing for Fun
January 2023
In The Lap Of The Gods (A parallel Universe) - Anne Wilson
He shivered with distaste, finding the whole process repugnant. Oh, for the days when expectant fathers paced up and down anxiously, awaiting the footsteps of a nurse and the reassurance that someone’s wife had given birth to a beautiful baby boy or girl.
Instead, here he was at her bedside, racked with anxiety. Was it for her? Probably not, he decided guiltily. Of course he hoped she would be alright: it would be callous not to feel that way, but it was mainly the future that was giving him concern. From that honest self-admission he made his own inference that he cared for her less than he should do, and certainly less than she cared for him.
As he clutched her hand, words of encouragement fell from his lips almost by rote, but they felt stiff and forced. Did every married man feel as he did? He doubted it. But then other married men weren’t in his position. He gave way to self-pity for a moment then pulled himself together in the way he had been taught to do.
She writhed, moaned and occasionally screamed for what seemed to him to be an eternity. He thought it would never stop. Then suddenly it was all over. He sighed deeply, aware that this release of tension was more that he could now get on with his life, than that he had just witnessed a miracle of nature.
‘Darling,’ she cried. ‘Isn’t he beautiful?’
He had to admit that their child, was indeed, striking.
‘Beautiful,’ he agreed. ‘And look at that little tuft of red hair on his head.’
‘Our first-born,’ she beamed. ‘We’re both so blessed. Are we still agreed on the first name?
‘Of course,’ he responded. ‘Harry. My son, but also my successor to the throne. May he grow up to be dutiful and responsible in a manner befitting his destiny.’
They smiled contentedly.