“She didn’t die here?” I hardly dare ask the question, my voice barely a whisper. You are a man for statements, not explanations.
“She did not die here,” you say. It is a bald statement.
Yet again, as has been our custom, I let the silence hang between us. It is a new routine, to replace those of my prior, solitary existence.
“She died out there,” you say, pointing to the hills that brood on the horizon.
“I am sorry,” I say, looking at you. You are staring towards those hills, as if to destroy them with your thoughts. I kneel down, reach out to brush the dust and lichen from the worn stone, to reveal her name to the elements.
“NO!” You grasp my arm, pull me up and away from the headstone. I bite down on the yelp of protest as pain arrows across my shoulders. You do not like dissent. I have learned this lesson well.
“She was careless,” you say and stride away from me. You mount your horse, landing in the saddle in one, supple move.
I turn my back and walk into the house.
You will return.
You will return.
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Here’s my latest entry into Magpie Tales. There is a theme running through my weekly writings once again. If you want to know more about Sarah, please read my Five Sentence Fiction and Three Word Wednesday entries. Can you identify with her at all?
“Clara, this hotel really wasn’t what I was hoping for. I’m really rather disappointed. I thought the Swiss were all about precision, order and cleanliness? Aren’t net curtains supposed to cover the entire window?”
For goodness sake, Beatty! All you’ve done since we got here is moan. First it was the food, then it was the snow, then it was the language barrier. Now, it’s the hotel. Do you even know how much it costs to stay in hotels all the time? We’re running out of money!”
“But why didn’t you say? Graham always handled that side of things….”
“I’m telling you now. Honestly, do you think money grows on trees?”
“Oh, you’re so mean? You sound just like Graham!”
“Beatty, I’m sorry, but I’m starting to hav some sympathy with the man. You really are clueless.”
“And now I know what Jeremy meant when he told me how hard you are. Poor, poor man!”
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Here’s my latest entry into Magpie Tales – In a similar manner to last week, I wrote two tales earlier for VisDare and Five Sentence Fiction, and thought it would be good to round them off with this little offering.
This week, we have first, Little Women, second, Little Men, and to round it off, this tale. Did anybody get what they wanted?
“Graham, you simply have to pull yourself together, old chap, it won’t do any good.”
“She’s gone, gone off with your wife, no less – I knew she was a bad influence, flighty, undisciplined and full of crackpot ideas. You should have kept her in hand when you had the chance!”
“Now steady on there, it takes two to tango, don’t you know!”
