By: D Carter
No eyes, no mouth—ears
harrowed by endless screams’ wail,
death will not grant peace.
About the Creator
T.D.Carter
Tilita Carter is a writer from Alabama whose work explores all the aspects of family. Sunday Best is her first submission, and she is currently working on a collection of stories inspired by life growing up in Southern state of Alabama.
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RED LIGHTNING
In my kitchen, I’m preparing to cook my favorite comfort food: spaghetti with garlic knots and a fresh salad with Thousand Island dressing. Lately, I’ve been indulging in comfort foods—sometimes it’s a bowl of Corn Pops topped with orange sherbet ice cream or Girl Scout Thin Mint Pop-Tarts with a cold glass of milk. The good news is the crying has finally passed. I was listening to Napster, playing my Morgan Wallen playlist, because seeing the world through "Whiskey Glasses" is exactly what I am doing right now. There’s nothing quite like country music for making the broken-hearted feel worse. Singing “Whiskey Glasses” at the top of my lungs, off-key, while I set up my solo dinner, I can feel the hollow ache of solitude. It’s hard being alone after so many years in a relationship—even a toxic one. I hear the next song, and Post Malone is serenading me, telling me this one’s for the losers. I will drink to that.
By T.D.Carter3 months ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
I love how much emotion you convey in just a few lines. The sense of inescapable torment is powerful and chilling.