Left behind
“You give the signal if anyone comes,” my brothers would say. “You’re too little to come in.”
They played ‘snowman’. They’d throw the powdery stuff around until they became three pale ghosts. Standing guard near the gaping fence where they’d clambered through, I’d listen to their breathless laughter.
For years afterwards they’d reminisce, reliving their antics in the derelict factory that was demolished before I grew old enough to join their game.
Tonight I’m on guard again, at another hospital bedside, listening as the last of them struggles for breath.
Outside, soft drifts of snow have turned the world white.
*****
This is my contribution to this week’s Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.
Onto the page 
magical and symmetrical
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Thank you, Neil.
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Oh, that was lovely, Margaret. What a great take on the photo prompt.
Susan A Eames at
Travel, Fiction and Photos
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Thanks, Susan. A bit of a sombre tone for me this week.
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Dear Margaret,
I presume she escaped their fates since she was too young to play the game. Something toxic in that white powdery stuff. Very well written and told.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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That’s right. I was thinking of asbestos. I wasn’t sure if that had come through. I couldn’t decide if I needed to put in a more specific reference to what was happening in the derelict factory – sometimes it spoils the feeling of the story if you make it too obvious. We’ve had quite a lot of media attention to the dangers of asbestos here, with thousands of people affected, but I don’t know if it’s the same in other parts of the world. Thanks, Rochelle.
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Hope they didn’t scare anyone to death by their joke…
It’s sad to be left behind & bid the final bye to older family-members. The youngest ones have to be sadly left behind most of the times…
Out Of Sight & Out Of This World – Anita
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That’s true. It’s doubly tragic when it happens too soon. Thanks, Anita.
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Such a fond warm memory and such a sad end, but then that’s life.
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Yes, a very sad and unnecessary end. Thanks for commenting, Iain.
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A very well-developed and potent bit of writing.
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Thank you so much.
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Oh dear. I’m guessing that factory was full of asbestos or something. Very sad but well written 🙂
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Yes, it was. It’s a sad topic – sparked by a conversation I had with a friend recently about workers in a power plant years ago and the lack of protections in place for them. Thanks for your comment, Ali.
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I wonder what was in that white fluffy stuff. She probably felt sad at the time not being allowed to join in, but realized (though sadly) it was a good thing she wasn’t. Beautifully written piece, Margaret.
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Thank you, Brenda. I’m glad those ideas came across.
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Time marches on, but memories are forever..
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True. My MC’s memories will be bitter-sweet.
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This started out light and fun and turned my stomach in the end. The carelessness with which ‘white powder’ (I saw it as some poisonous chemical, pesticide etc.) is left lying around is criminal and seems universal. We’ve had the asbestos warnings years ago but there’s still a lot of ignorance. Great story, Margaret.
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It is a sickening reality. We’ve had a lot of media attention on asbestos contamination here, and some big court cases too. I had a conversation about it recently, and the white snow in the prompt made the link for me. Thanks for your comment, Gabriele.
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Poignant and so well-written. Love the way you connected the past and the present by referring to the toxic “white stuff” from the protagonist’s childhood and the snow turning the world white outside the hospital.
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I’m glad you spotted that. That ending nearly got the chop because I wondered if I had to put in something more specific about what was really happening to the characters. Thanks for your encouraging comment, magarisa.
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Glad you kept the ending. I don’t think it was necessary to be more specific about what happened. My pleasure, Margaret.
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A lovely memoir story, Margaret. Well written. I wondered what was meant by “the powdery stuff”. On reading the comments It was probably something poisonous and not just snow. 🙂 — Suzanne
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Thank you. You’re correct – it wasn’t snow at all.
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Saved by exclusion… Had they only known.
So very well done, Margaret.
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Thank you, Dale. They didn’t know – the tragedy is that those who did know did nothing to fix it until they were forced to.
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This was beautifully done. I first thought they were playing in the snow and then I realised this was a nod towards the hazards of asbestos that has taken so many lives.
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A beautiful tale. I liked how you used the game of snowmen where they appeared like ghosts and then took us to reflect on the passing of the last brother at the end.
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So the derelict factory was contaminated. Kids were not supposed to go in and play. Now bad time is catching up. Who takes responsibility for leaving a place dirty?
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Oh gosh. Gut wrenching
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Thank you, Laurie. Yes – a sad outcome from an innocent game.
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Really moving, Margaret. That switch from the start of life and all its promise to the end, coming full circle and keeping watch for the last time. Just lovely
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Thank you, Lynn. I’m glad you noticed that.
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My pleasure 🙂
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Like this. In same ways we never grow up!
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Thanks, Tannille.
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What a tender and tragic story, Margaret. I really enjoyed this one.
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Thank you, Dawn.
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How sad!
I liked this story a lot, as well.
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Thank you, Dawn.
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