Bound by bone

I haven’t found the time (or maybe motivation?) to update on my stay here at home in the States but in a nutshell, it has been filled with reunions with dearly missed friends in Baltimore, quality time with family, lounging in the sun, dogs, dogs, and dogs.  I’ve finished reading two books, eaten more than should be reasonably allowed for any one person, and felt infinitely inspired by the West Virginia countryside.  Daily, I let rich descriptive words rush through my mind freely; everything from the way the sunlight hits the leaves to the methodical ticking of the bedside clock in my grandma’s guest room conjures an image or metaphor.  I’ve felt like writing and soon I’ll be truly free enough to devote some much-needed time to it.

For the past year or so, I’ve had vivid and realistic dreams every night.  I sometimes falter in the morning, unable to tell which events occurred in my waking life and which were simply a manifestation of my unconscious mind.  While that confusion can be problematic, the dreams often provide interesting narrative for potential works of fiction.  Two nights ago, after watching an unsettling and gruesome episode of Forensic Files, I drifted off only to have a story more or less written for me when I woke the next day.  I chose to write it as a piece of flash fiction, but am considering turning it into a short story.  Critiques and comments are, as always, welcome.

—————————-

Bound by Bone

They stood side by side in the graveyard, rows of worn stones to their left and right stretching across dew-covered grass.  Their eyes were downcast, silently tracing the words on the marker in unison.

“You’ve got to let me go,” she said in a low voice, gaze unmoving from her own name etched before her.  “Give me back this last piece of myself so I can rest.  I’m so tired.”

A suddent gust of wind ruffled his hair and for a moment he was silent.

Finally, he raised his black eyes to the setting sun on the horizon.  The last of the golden beams, escaping the confines of the oppressive heat of the day, played over his face.

“I did this to keep you with me forever.  I couldn’t let you leave then, and I won’t now.”

With this last utterance, he slipped her dry, brittle jawbone into his pocket and plodded away from the wilted flowers and sun-bleached teddy bears that adorned her tombstone.  Head down, her shadowy form followed him through the cemetery gates and out into the coolness of the night.

Advertisements

About Andrea Ella

Change junkie, adventure seeker, avid couchsurfer. Let's get weird.
This entry was posted in Musings and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s