November, 2059

I was born in November 2059. The year of the first raid. My mother hid under the kitchen table, placing me, a pink seven pound lump, in a plastic washing bowl lined with a tea towel. When I opened my mouth to wail, she shoved her knuckle in and grimaced. When spring came, they were still after us. I slept in the pouch of my mother’s coat, one hand on me and another picking illegal berries from the other side of the lake. Five years later, in summer, I laid camouflaged by grass and bluebells, always prepared but never afraid.

This story was shortlisted in the March 2023 monthly micro fiction competition.

About the author:

Jess, 29, is a full time Nanny, and has always loved reading and writing from a young age. Jess is currently working on her the second draft of her second novel, and it is her dream to one day be published.