The Watcher (short fiction)


From my vantage spot, I see a young girl call to her mother, running with her arms open. The woman does likewise and they collide with a force of love, so strong it brings tears rolling down my cheeks.

I wonder again, why I am here in the park. A place where women bring their children to play. A place where those same women meet friends, who also have children, and they catch up over their lattes. I watch from afar, on the park bench, with a book that occasionally I read, but mostly, I spy on those around me.

I’m not a bad person. I’m not stalking any of these women, or their children. I sit, invisible to them, in my pit of sadness and shame. Not so long ago, I thought I might get the chance to bring my own child here. You see, I was pregnant. I lost the baby. Seems so foolish, doesn’t it? I never deserved to have a baby, if I lost track of it, in-utero.

Afterwards, I lost everything. Brad left me, sold the house under my feet, and took the keys to our car. Nowhere to go. No-one to love. All because of ‘nature’s way’ – that’s what the doctors called it. The miscarriage. I call it loss of love, future and happiness.

So here I sit. Watching other people’s happiness all around me.

I am sad and lonely.



Photo by Leo Rivas on Unsplash

5 thoughts on “The Watcher (short fiction)”

      1. Wow thank you. So kind of you to say. I wrote it in the half hour before picking up my kids from school so wasn’t entirely certain it was any good. Your comment means a great deal, thanks again.

        Liked by 1 person

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