Winter on the Trail of Tears

“Bring me my knife!”

The mother had succumbed, but I might yet save her child.

I sliced damp layers of flesh, unveiling the still small body within. Bloody birthing sac clung to its nostrils.

I tore the film away, rubbed a finger on the tiny blue chest, and prayed.


Elizabeth Holsinger.

  • Austin Briggs

    You know how to write, Elizabeth. This is strong.