My hands grip the gate, the cold frame slides open like a
mortuary drawer. I slip through, exhaling. It snaps back into place like the
sharp recoil of a gun.
mortuary drawer. I slip through, exhaling. It snaps back into place like the
sharp recoil of a gun.
A path lies
before me, a stretch of pebbled stones giving way to sodden grass and soil. Branches
of tall trees hang heavy, trailing like the tresses of a lover’s hair. A grey
mist meanders, its cold, clammy fingers caressing me until my clothes cling
like a second skin.
before me, a stretch of pebbled stones giving way to sodden grass and soil. Branches
of tall trees hang heavy, trailing like the tresses of a lover’s hair. A grey
mist meanders, its cold, clammy fingers caressing me until my clothes cling
like a second skin.
Mud
squelches around my feet, sealing my presence. Sharp thorns and sneering faces
taunt me from the dark recesses of the forest. But there is no other path, so I
push my hands deep into my pockets, taking comfort in the smooth metal my fingers
encounter.
squelches around my feet, sealing my presence. Sharp thorns and sneering faces
taunt me from the dark recesses of the forest. But there is no other path, so I
push my hands deep into my pockets, taking comfort in the smooth metal my fingers
encounter.
My feet drag
and my limbs ache as the path inclines. Sweat trickles down my face. I glance
back, my body tingling as the track appears to close behind me. Yet I cannot
falter, it’s the day I’ve waited for. The day of reckoning. I shiver and the
silence hums like a mother’s whisper, cajoling me onwards.
and my limbs ache as the path inclines. Sweat trickles down my face. I glance
back, my body tingling as the track appears to close behind me. Yet I cannot
falter, it’s the day I’ve waited for. The day of reckoning. I shiver and the
silence hums like a mother’s whisper, cajoling me onwards.
I see him waiting
on the crest of the hill, a shadow in the twilight. I clench my fist; feel the
imprint on my hand.
on the crest of the hill, a shadow in the twilight. I clench my fist; feel the
imprint on my hand.
He stretches
out his hand towards me. I draw out mine.
out his hand towards me. I draw out mine.
We are face
to face for the first time.
to face for the first time.
And, as a
soft light rises, I place the rosary in his scarred palm.
soft light rises, I place the rosary in his scarred palm.
4 responses
Fantastic writing MJ!!!
Thank you!:)
Interesting piece of flash. The ending created all kinds of possibilities with the rest.
Thanks G:) I'm pleased you found it interesting. The ending was meant to be a surprise..with the earlier hints that instead of a rosary it could have been a gun.