A Long Sleep

I have no fear of death. Must be wonderful, like a long sleep. —Katharine Hepburn

Sometimes, when she stared off into nothing for a long time, she could see the little particles of light-

(Is that what they were?)

-dance around. She was never certain where they came from or if they were even there-

(Was anything really there?)

-but she would look at them regardless.

They helped her feel less…lonely. Yes, that was the word. She was lonely. She hadn’t always been lonely, had she?

(No, once there were others all around her, weren’t there?)

Either way, she was lonely now.

She was old and there were very few who ever came to visit her now. Those that did would talk around her or at her, but not to her. They had tried talking to her in the earlier days of their visits-

(She still didn’t know who they were…)

-but she had such a hard time keeping track of the conversation that they often had to start it all over again every few minutes.

(She didn’t always make it that far, sometimes it was every few seconds.)

They kept coming anyway, though, and after some time, she’d come to appreciate the visits even if they were nothing more than companionable chatter all around her. She was like the rock in a stream, watching everything swim by but still enjoying the atmosphere of the little glade the river ran through.

(How their lovely faces would crinkle and worry and yet still hold so much love…)

She was smiling when her eyes closed for the last time.

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Muzzy Morning

She grumbled quietly as the glare of the sun filtered through the partially drawn blinds. Her head ached more with every blinking of the light as the wind rustled the leaves outside, adding to the dilution of the light through the window. Her nose was all stuffed up and she could feel the phlegm dripping down the back of her throat from it.

“Mary? Mary? Are you awake yet?”

Mary groaned, though it was no less loud than the earlier grumbling. The sound of Warren entering the room and, as quietly as he could, walking across the room gave her enough reason to actually lift her head from their bed and peer out at him.

“I don’ feel so goo’.” she mumbled, placing a hand on her aching head.

Warren handed her a glass of water and a few wintergreen mints but nothing else. Mary drank the water and munched a few of the mints before placing the majority on the end table by the bed. She snuggled back under the covers and Warren smiled slightly before kissing her in the forehead and turning the lights off.

Being pregnant seemed to bring out all the vulnerabilities that Mary usually didn’t have.


Inspired in part from one of the FreeWriteFriday prompts and the slight cold I have this morning.

Healing Love

Hurts amass over time,
I‘d like to think that I more sturdy than most.
Don’t forget that you will always carry
Disaster hiding in plain sight.
Everything has to begin somewhere.
Now will you ignore your scars, or respect them?
 
How is it that you come along
Even when my pains not gone
And hold me safe inside your arms
Letting love heal all my harms.
Even when I shout and cry
Really you are my favorite guy.
 

She wasn’t quite sure how to feel so she just sat there, tears streaming silently down her face. The ring that had held a place of pride on her hand now sat in her hand, the cold of the metal seeming to dull the gem that had previously shined in delight.

The door to her room opened and the pitter-patter of feet moving softly over the carpet came to a halt by her bedside. A plate was placed gently on the end table and the bed dipped as an arm came up and around her shoulders.

She said nothing as a hand gently guided her face onto a stronger shoulder and she cried out her sorrows on the shoulder of her brother.

The pie on the plate sat a silent testament to how well he knew her heart.


Both parts inspired in equal parts from Light and Shade Challenge from yesterday and the Dungeon Prompt from last Thursday.

Thank you for your care

“How can this satisfy you?” she asks.

“Because I find that I am happy here.” I answer.

There is more to life than riches and gold, there is family and love and light.


Written for this week’s Trifectra: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/2014/03/trifecta-week-114.html

A short conversation like one I have had recently with one of my sisters. She worries about me and though I am glad for her love, I also know that I am happy where I am.