There sat the stone. The only remnant of 50 plus years. Raymond stood over the plague style marker and tried with all his might to focus, but the tears welled-up drowning his sight. He sobbed uncontrolled, he no longer cared if anyone else could see him. His shoulders, once the massive and impressive specimens of a young man, now thin and frail, bounced up and down as his grief overcame him. He fell to his knees and then slowly onto his face—prostrated across the remains of his wife.
“Lord, just take me home.”
His body heaved in anguish. He was unable to even lift his head. Bitter, unrelenting heartache controlled him. He was undone.
Continued...This is a great short story: The Outdoor Cathedral – Two Drops of Ink: A Literary Blog via @Linkis_com: It was in the places of the “in-between” that Raymond had begun to see himself as he was. He was not of the other world, the world of the spirits, he was of this world, and he...
No comments:
Post a Comment