Crying Inside…Behind The Tombstone 007
…he found himself alone, but not without communication
Lacrimoso a Affrettando
Straining his eyes to focus, he muttered to himself, “where’d everyone go?”
He sat there with wood splinters strewn all over him, slumping up against the wall. With his head leaned back, he stared at the ceiling. His hands trembled but still cradled the phone in his lap. A little chiming of the bell inside of it softly filled the silent air.
Realizing his situation was dire, he looked down at it. Pulling the receiver from its base, he reveled in the memories. There she was.
Those were the best seven years of all his 42. The sun was bright, the smiles warm, and the caresses tender. It was an endless seven. It was better than heaven. Those times he couldn’t escape, couldn’t out grow. He was stunted there, frozen in time, paralyzed in that love.
He yearned to return there. He always wanted to go there. Every dream was made from there. She was always there. A sacred haunt that persisted with every beat of his heart. Every false grin he now gave was twisted from there.
Halting the receiver in front of his face, he looked into it as if it were a mirror, or portal to those seven. He could hear her laughter, see the dream.
Hanging up the receiver, the room slowly came back into focus and now he could make out his friends bodies. They were all either slouched sitting in a chair or cowering on the ground. But they were there. He could see puffs of frozen breathe as their chests heaved in the heavy air. He had to go to them. Bring them back. Make sure they were themselves, especially the mother.
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More of this unfolds …Behind The Tombstone. And please remember...
Mayhap you could start the series here at Bone Rattler...
“Take the day. Before the day takes you.” — Seymour Toa