He lay there in the bed like a pale orphan, his lips dry as paper as she leaned over him.
“Find something beautiful again,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
“I forgave you. I said so.”
“I’m not forgivable.”
“You are now.”
“Please tell my daughter that I never meant to leave.”
“I can’t do that. She won’t talk to me now.”
“Okay.”
The blood pooled about his head like a crimson halo, his skin growing sallow and grey. She took the knife and placed it by his side.
“But eternity won’t forgive you. I promise you that.”
About the Creator
Kevin Rolly
Artist working in Los Angeles who creates images from photos, oil paint and gunpowder.
He is writing a novel about the suicide of his brother.
http://www.kevissimo.com/
FB: https://www.facebook.com/Kevissimo/
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More stories from Kevin Rolly and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Home
The cat was mere bones sliding beneath aged skin marked by the long miles. Drain pipes and broken fences, hiding from the ravaged dogs and living on the garbage of the cities splayed in wet alleys like shredded plastic mountains. Down country were mice and carrion at least.
By Kevin Rolly3 years ago in Fiction
Miss Persephone's Manual to a Seemingly Ordinary Life
Miss Persephone was found at the dining table, her blue eyes swollen, her tears arriving and retreating like the tides of the ocean. Earlier that day, her family had visited her in the retirement home where she had lived for eight years. It was her eightieth birthday.
By Imola Tóth2 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Sad, and well written.