“Why are we here, Papa? It’s so very quiet, like it’s Sunday or something.”
The man stares at his teenage daughter, his heart aching to see the ghost of Sarah lingering in her quizzical expression. He fingers the scar running along his jaw, a nervous habit he knows only too well.
“Did you and Mama work here, during the war?”
Bless her, she is as sharp as her mother, he thinks, his heart breaking slowly. He can’t believe it makes no noise in doing so, is incredulous that there is no pool of blood dripping onto the cobbles at his feet in witness to what is about to happen.
It has been ten years, since Sarah died here, in the road, outside this small magasin.
‘Not died,’ he thinks, correcting the lie he had been telling himself for a decade. ‘Killed. By me.’
He hopes his daughter is as strong as his mother had been. She will need to be, once she knows the truth.
——
Here’s my latest entry to Magpie Tales. I couldn’t quite leave my trilogy behind, so thought I would write a kind of post-script. You can read the other stories in order here, here, and here, if you like!
I hope you enjoy it – and please do visit Magpie Tales for more poetry and prose!
The raindrops pelt my hair, my face, my arms, my hands until I am drenched.
I stand in the empty street, arms outstretched, palms turned upwards, embracing the clouds above.
I know eyes are watching me from behind nets, behind doors held slightly ajar and deep in the shadows just out of reach of the streetlight’s glare.
I know they are whispering behind hands and underneath raised eyebrows – to them I am the woman who has lost her mind with grief, for nobody sane stands in the street, in the rain, in her nightgown.
But I do – it is a relief to feel something other than the weight of profound loss – it is a relief to feel so refreshed.
I raised my head gingerly, recalling a night of chills, pain and fever-riddled dreams.
The girl smiled, joy flooding her eyes. “We make you better.”
I doubted it. Oh, the sickness would go – but I had been travelling for so long and still I woke each morning, desolate.
She shepherded me through tall grasses. I heard tinkling bells in the distance, laughter and chanting.
The entire community had gathered by the river, bearing lit paper lanterns. The tiny flames punctured the early morning mists like stars fallen to earth.
“Grandfather left our world last night for eternal happiness. Now we wish him safe travels. You must do the same. You must let your loved one go.”
I took the lantern, paused and then launched it into the air, watching until it disappeared.
Enveloped in the embrace of strangers, I had set myself free.
I’m back for another entry into Angela’s VisDare prompt, where the challenge is to respond, in 150 words or less, to the photo she puts up on her blog each week.The young lady is stunning, with such a winning smile, I just couldn’t resist!
I hope you enjoy it, please do take part. I’ll be linking up now and commenting on other contributions later!
