Sam Vickery


Tag: fiction

The Little Red Button

The sun glared harshly through the passenger window of the old, musty Sedan. Lisa glared at the speckles of dust, floating as if in slow motion through the stream of light. It shouldn’t be sunny. Not today. Not when her heart needed the world to be dark and grey. When she needed to feel like something made a modicum of sense.

Blue skies were wrong. The happy, laughing faces of the teenagers they’d passed on the drive here were wrong. She’d wanted Niall to swerve the car – to mow them down, wipe those stupid, toothy grins from their fresh, youthful faces. Only for a second. A flash of wicked fury that had passed as soon as it arrived. But she’d wanted it.

Lisa’s eyes flicked to the cold stone building to her right, noticing with an audible grunt the crowd that had begun to grow. Niall was out there somewhere. Talking. Mingling. Opening up to people who couldn’t possibly understand. He had told her to come, to wait outside with the rest of them, but she’d growled something menacing and he’d closed the car door with a quiet click.

She wouldn’t have it. She wouldn’t have him playing the victim. Accepting sympathy from people who had no right to offer it. She watched now as his dark suit came into view, breaking away from the group and walking towards the car.

Panicked, she glanced at the little clock on the dashboard. It had a crack through the centre of the glass and she knew it was set five minutes fast – A habit she had begun more than a decade ago to combat her serial lateness. It hadn’t helped. The dial read 1pm.

Five minutes to go.

Lisa felt her mouth go dry. She wrapped her arms tightly around the inert bundle on her chest. It was too soon. She wasn’t ready. How could she ever be ready for this? Her heart began to beat harder, her breath catching in her throat. She didn’t look round as the driver side door opened and her husband slipped silently into the seat beside her.

A minute passed in silence, save for the sound of her pulse hammering in her ears and Niall’s uneven, shallow breath. She wished he would shut up. She could see the faces glance over from the crowd, trying to catch her eye, to smile that warm, sad, pitying smile she had been forced to endure so often in the past six days.

Niall cleared his throat and turned slightly to look at her. She didn’t move. “Lisa. It’s time to go.”

“Not yet.”

He gave a sigh. “Lisa, they’re bringing her round now.”

At that, the hammering in her chest grew faster still. For a brief second, she thought that she was going to pass out, but she didn’t. She bit down hard on her lower lip as hot, unwelcome tears sprung to her eyes. She squeezed the bundle harder.

Niall reached across, taking her hand softly in his own. His was cold and clammy. She pulled back, not caring that his face crumpled at her reaction, his eyes creased with pain and anguish. She couldn’t feel sorry for him. She couldn’t find a scrap of sympathy.

“Please Lis’. Give me the doll. You can’t take it in.”

Slowly, she turned to face him with venom in her eyes. “Why not?” she spat.

“Lisa, come on. Give it to me. It’s just a bit of plastic. It’s not real.” He slumped against the threadbare seat, rubbing his fingers into the sockets of his eyes, kneading at them almost viciously. She watched him with mild disgust. Finally he raised his head. “It won’t make things better.”

Lisa stared at him, unsmiling. Slowly, she lowered her face, her eyes finding the empty, glass irises of the baby doll. She wasn’t crazy. She knew – of course she knew – that it was only a toy. Just a lump of plastic, moulded and shaped to look like a sweet baby girl. It was supposed to have been a birthday gift for her daughter. Their daughter. But of course, that would never happen now. Her daughter would never hold and love and play with it.

Lisa knew the damn thing wasn’t her baby. She knew what it must look like to the people around her. But every time she tried to put it down, the ache in her arms, her heart, became a white hot pain she couldn’t bear. She couldn’t think, couldn’t function, so aware of the thing that was missing, the body that should be there, head tucked warmly beneath her chin, ear to her heart, knowing it beat just for her. Her baby. Her sweet Lilly.

“This is your fault,” she whispered, her eyes still on the baby doll. She felt the impact of her words immediately. Words she hadn’t yet dared to voice, but had played on repeat in her mind for the past six days. She knew what they would do to him. The confirmation that she laid the blame at his feet. That she hated him for what he hadn’t been able to do. She knew she should take them back. That she should tell him it was okay, she forgave him. Everything was going to be alright. That they would get through this together. But none of that was true. Their marriage had been over the moment their daughter’s heart had stopped beating.

It was funny, she thought now, how something so small could break something once so strong. A little red button dropped from the sewing box onto the carpet, just the perfect size to wedge itself in an eleven month old’s throat. A husband distracted for just a few minutes while he took a call in the other room. Tiny, almost imperceptible actions that in the space of a few minutes, destroyed her whole world. He should have been more careful as he riffled through the box, looking for the scissors. He should have been watching her. Niall choked back a sob and stared straight ahead, unable to put words to the injustice of his situation. Lisa watched as the funeral director approached the car, gave a short nod and stepped back to wait for them.

She wasn’t ready to say goodbye. She wasn’t ready to accept the emptiness in her arms. She squeezed the doll again, soaking up the tiny fragment of comfort its soft, cotton body offered. She took a deep, steadying breath, feeling the tears streaming like fire down her cheeks. Her life was forever changed. Her dreams had been shattered into a million tiny pieces, and she was terrified at the thought of what would come next. She had no idea what she would do, who she would even be without the label of wife, mother. She was lost. All she could do was put one foot in front of the other and follow blindly until she found her way.

It was time to say goodbye. She stepped out into the sunshine, holding tightly onto the doll, and walked into the blinding glare of the unknown.



The copyright of this story belongs to Sam Vickery.

Win a Signed Copy of The Promise!

Hold on to your hats people! I’m giving away a SIGNED copy of my new novel THE PROMISE and you could be the lucky winner.

All you need to do to be entered into the giveaway is:

  1. Like and Share this post on Facebook, Twitter or your social media of choice.
  2. Join my (FREE) VIP reader list by entering your regular email address here. Make sure it’s one you check often, as I’ll contact the winner via email. ~


The winner will be chosen on the 16th of August.

And if you can’t wait until then, you can grab a copy worldwide on Amazon right now.

It’s Finally Here!!!

The Promise (Kindle)Well my beautiful readers, I’m going to keep this short and sweet.

THE PROMISE – A Tale of Unconventional Adoption and the Immeasurable Strength of a Mother’s Love, is now available to purchase on Amazon Kindle.

Right now, to celebrate the launch, you can get it for the unbelievably low price of just 99p/$0.99, but this offer will only be available for one week before it goes up to £2.25/$2.99.

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Early reviews:

“Beautiful, profound and from the heart. The Promise shows a depth of character development beyond that of standard ‘women’s fiction’, and offers readers a journey into what it means to love selflessly, completely, and what truly makes a mother – biological or otherwise.”

“I read this book in one sitting, I couldn’t put it down. There were points I could barely breathe due to the raw emotions I was feeling for the characters. I cried and I even found myself wanting another baby (!!) to relive the moments so beautifully written about in the promise. Well worth a read. Excellent.”

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The story:

Saraya Matthews knows that at thirty two years old, life should look better than this. With no spark and no passion, she decides enough is enough. She is going to find her purpose and stop wasting her life away.

Little does she know, her purpose will come in the form of an orphaned baby boy whose mother has been gruesomely murdered on the streets of London.

Saraya finds herself in a battle between what’s legal and what’s morally right. The authorities expect her to hand him over, but baby Flynn needs her. Saraya is surprised to discover that once she lets herself love him, she can’t turn back.

Flung full force into the unexpected position of mother and protector, she realises she will do whatever it takes to keep her baby safe in her arms.

But will she succeed?

A tale of unconventional adoption and the immeasurable strength of a mother’s love.

Get your copy now –

The Light of Oriah: Burning Jungle – It’s here!!

I am so pleased to announce that The Light of Oriah: Burning Jungle is now ready and available to purchase both in paperback and for your eReader!

The Light of Oriah - Burning JungleSynopsis:

A fast paced fantasy fiction taking us on a quest from the depths of the Congo, to the rural woodlands of England and on to the hot and humid rainforest of Borneo. Romantic, enticing and utterly addictive.

Hidden deep within the Congolese jungle live a unique and secretive family. A Vampire, a Mortal, and their fifteen year old daughter, Oriah, a Child of Venus. Their lives are idyllic. Under the blazing sun Oriah paints, swims and practices her gift of controlling the elements around her.

But the peace is not to last.

The Vampire dictator Naraku and his loyal army, The Chikara, have taken a special interest in Oriah. When they descend on her home destroying everything she holds dear, she flees to England in search of answers.

But instead of answers, she finds more questions, none of which she can seem to solve.

Is the mysterious Sebastian really trustworthy? And why is she so drawn to him?

What do the Chikara want from her?

And how far is she willing to push herself in the fight for her freedom?

© 2018 Sam Vickery

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