2:18. The clock’s crimson glow is a warning. Something is wrong. I lie petrified in the bed, expecting the strident tones of a predawn call. A morbid slide show flashes through my mind: dark and gleaming wood of the casket, the family clinging to each other in grief, a grey gloved hand of a pallbearer gripping the smooth handle. Cloying incense and the scent of freshly turned earth surround me. I hear my own sobs, as heavy pain radiates out from my heart.
There will be no phone call. This is not some hellish premonition. It is the echo of your death. Years later, my mind blessedly let me forget the anniversary of your loss. But the body remembers. It replays the agony of it. Lets it reverberate once more.
Run With It should return next week! :)
What a sad moment in time. Nice job this week, Jax.
ReplyDeleteI suppose writers often focus on the premonitions but the echoes are harder to live with. Very sad but beautifully written.
ReplyDeleteI especially like the contrast between the mind forgetting and the body not forgetting.
ReplyDeleteReally liked the echo between body and memory. Great thinking point.
ReplyDeleteAdam B @revhappiness
I always thought my death rattle would sound more like an alarm clock. Such a cloying moment in time... hm, my reaction was coarser than Danni's, wasn't it?
ReplyDelete(third sentence, first paragraph regresses to past tense, might want to nip that)
You can feel the ache of this. Some moments never stop haunting us.
ReplyDeleteVery well done.
Very nice work Jax. So frightening and intense. Well done! :)
ReplyDeleteThe body, the heart, holds powerful memories. Very well said.
ReplyDelete