"Nevermore," croaked the massive black bird from the one-eyed old man's shoulder.
"He's dead, Memory. He can't hear you."
Memory looked from one burned corpse to the next, bright black eyes consuming the scene. So many dead. Which ones would the old man choose?
Thought flew back to them, alighting on the first body's face and pecking at his cheek as though to wake him.
"Fear," croaked Thought. "Shame. Regret."
Memory fluttered down next to his brother. "Valor. Honour. Courage."
The old man listened to their debate until, kneeling and taking the cold hand in his, he made his choice.
About the Creator
Alexander McEvoy
Writing has been a hobby of mine for years, so I'm just thrilled to be here! As for me, I love writing, dogs, and travel (only 1 continent left! Australia-.-)
"The man of many series" - Donna Fox
I hope you enjoy my madness
AI is not real art!
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More stories from Alexander McEvoy and writers in Fiction and other communities.
A Girl Who Sang the Blues
Blueish smoke hung low over the circular tables before the stage. Dim light glittered in every eye as they watched the singer finish her song. It was haunting, beautiful, and it captured the heart of everyone who heard it. Every heart but one.
By Alexander McEvoy3 years ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
This is such an interesting micro fiction! Is this part of something bigger?
Captivating! 😁