As I pounded down the stairs unbidden words filled my head.
“Such a senseless accident.” Third floor.
“He was so young.” The voices seemed to echo off the walls, surrounding me.
“-nothing anyone could have done." Second floor.
“You need to start thinking about next steps-”. They were closing in. Suffocating.
“SHUT UP.” I screamed out grabbing desperately at the sides of my head, rushing towards the lobby, towards escape, towards yesterday.
Yesterday
His lips lightly brushed her forehead but she didn’t wake. They usually shared a goodbye, but it was early. There would be time for that later.
About the Creator
Claire Jones
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The Begining
It was a crisp November morning, the sun had not yet managed to penetrate through the stubborn cloud cover, so shadows still clung to the corners of the house. The grounds were scarce in stark contrast with the overbearing manor, it’s dark stone walls, gothic windows and spindly towers making a bold statement in the little wood clearing. Tall oaks bereft of leaves bordered the property, their long branches reaching out towards the manor as if the forest were trying to reclaim its rightful land. Leaves hung around the base of the trees, their colors muted by weeks of neglect and decay. A short, portly woman hurried up the path following the crumbling stone wall that led up to the old manor. Her skirts tangling around her legs in the strong late autumn breeze. Though even the wind was unable to move a single strand of hair in her stubbornly tight bun.
By Claire Jones3 years ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Oh, wow, this is devastating. Beautifully done. 💗