The girl paced the attic in The House of Bones. The catenary arches bowed high overhead as if she had been caught in between the ribs of a giant creature. When the pains came she leant over the laundry baskets, the soiled linen muffling her cries. On the terrace, she squeezed her eyes shut against the view of the city and clung to the lines of drying sheets. Eventually, she made herself a bed of pillows and coverlets in an alcove, as a cat might find a corner of a barn. She gave birth alone, kissed her child and then she was gone.

***

Some of you who read my post from about four weeks ago, might remember that I said I was sending out my first novel to agents. Well, I’m very excited to say that I now have an agent – Jane Finigan from Lutyens & Rubinstein, in London. I’m going to be working on a few revisions and then she’ll be sending it out to publishers. So, the first hurdle, at least, has been jumped.

This piece of writing is part of the Friday Fictioneers writing group. Each week writers from around the world attempt to write 100 words (or so) starting with a picture. The local name for Casa Batlló is Casa dels ossos or House of Bones, and apparently the attic rooms used to be where the laundry was done.

I’d love to receive comments and constructive criticism. Click here to read other people’s stories inspired by this picture from Kent Bonham or to join in with the group hosted by Rochelle Wishoff-Fields.