The Mother and The Sky

Molina coughed; it was a hoarse, rasping cough that sat her bolt upright in bed - a violent shudder wracked her body. She streamed sweat from her fevered forehead and tried to stifle her nausea.

Beside her; Alihuan cried softly in his sleep.

"Shhhhhh." She breathed shallow, short breaths so as not to cough again, and ran her fingers along the baby's brow.

It had been only four months since the coughing sickness had swept through their little village - and unknown to them, across most of northern Mexico - but already fourscore souls had been lost.

Molina drew her shawl close around her shoulders against the dawn chill. She was awake now, there was no point in returning to bed once the coughing fits began - sleep would be impossible. It was time to see Mother Maihuatapoc.

She drew Alihuan from his cradle and into the sling at her breast; stood slowly and rose from the raised pallet that was her bed. For a strange reason she could not quite identify, she cast a brief look around the adobe hut, almost bare now, before stepping outside.

Notes to self on devices:-

- remember to look at scene's (in the mind's eye) with different perspectives: from outside/on top/inside/below, from far away/close up/intermediate distances

- plot is a series of actions, reactions and interactions carried out by the characters

- keep the reader turning the pages to find out "what happens next"