#day282020

[kharrisdawndancer]

Reconciling Herself to the Future

Tinnaire ran a fingertip over the smooth paper. His signature on the required line hit her hard and she thought it odd how her eyes still  watered.  Another sip of whiskey, and she dropped the sheet to shiver back dangerously close to the sink.

She floated through her apartment, time stretching and compressing, with her heart following suit. There were still a few boxes, after all this time; she pulled them out of her closet. Numb but aware of the heaviness that hung uncharacteristically from her spirit, she opened the last packages from a former life, reading over the labels from a former life. Contents were lifted out that would have to get used to their place here. She set them out one by one, lined up. They were nothing special. Some sundries from their office. A fountain pen. She remembered giving it to him.They’d been so young. It felt like so long ago. It was a lifetime ago.

It wrote beautifully. The flow was smooth and the ink was rich, even after all this time. She admired the line of her signature and tilted her head. She refilled her glass and then slid it back into the provided envelope with her lawyer’s name scripted on the address. She sealed it with a tongue still tasting of bourbon.

She would cry later, she was sure. But for now she reached for her comm and pulled up her contacts. It was at the top, just due to luck in nomenclature. She smiled sadly and fired off a short message to the enigmatic “7”.

“Just signed the paperwork. It’s official. Irrevocable differences. Got any time soon? I could use a friendly face to whom I won’t have to explain myself. Maybe that cooking lesson? I’ll buy the ingredients if you tell me what to get.”

@daily-writing-challenge

mentions: @sevensolar

Day28

[theconstructsworld]

Daily Writing Challenge Day 28 - Reconcile This is a type of poem called an octelle

A glacial sheen has shrouded all,  barren forests and rime appall. Harvest’s cinders set ablaze, build and surge on through the days. Early morning’s frigid light, reconciled with the night. A glacial sheen has shrouded all, barren forests and rime appall.

@daily-writing-challenge​

[rhysgoodwin]

Day 28 - Cemetery @daily-writing-challenge​

Rhys had never met his mother; she had died the day he was born, choosing his life over her own in her first and final act of selfless love towards him. He didn’t know much about her, although he did know that she was younger than he was now when she got pregnant.  No father was ever mentioned, nor any family.  Even after her death no one came forward to claim her as family or friend. At least she didn’t die alone.

When Rhys was a bit older, the matron of the orphanage brought him to the cemetery where she was buried and he was given sunflowers to lay on her grave. This had become an annual excursion for him, and although the matron stopped joining him after a few years, she was always happy to provide him sunflowers from her garden.

This year was no different, and thankfully there was an abundance of sunflowers to be found in Westfall.  After selecting a few of the largest flowers he could find, he made his way towards the cemetery in Elwynn Forest where she had been buried. It was always a solemn affair even though he had never met her, nor did he even know what she had looked like.  Someone once told him that he had her eyes and her dimples, but there were no photos nor records anywhere to be found.

He slowed his pace as he approached, noting a figure wearing all black and carrying a bouquet of sunflowers with him.  While Rhys couldn’t tell exactly from this distance, he did note that this strange man appeared to be close to where his mother’s grave was located.  Cautiously approaching to get a better look, he stopped walking and watched.  He had always wondered if there was anyone else in the world that had known her, and if they also knew that he existed.

What if….

Rhys’ grip tightened around the stems of the sunflowers as his eyes went wide.  What if this man was family?  What if this was his father?  Although he did look older, maybe he was her father?  Not exactly something you ask a complete stranger in the middle of a cemetery. Instead he maintained a respectable distance and silently debated if he should say anything. He could feel the nerves creeping in and catching in his throat, he knew that if he had tried to speak, everything would have come out in a stuttering jumble of word vomit.  

His hands had now begun to shake from the building anxiety, causing him to drop the sunflowers to the ground.  Quickly, he bent down and gathered them all together, ensuring that none of the petals had been crushed too badly by his own clumsiness.  Surely now the man had to know that he was here.  

Eyes darted back up and...nothing.  No one.  The man was gone, vanished into thin air. Rhys frantically jerked his head around and turned to look in every direction, but no one was there.  Someone had been there, right?  Slowly, he approached the headstone, noting that the fresh bouquet of sunflowers and baby’s-breath had been laid upon her grave. He scratched his head in confusion before reluctantly crouching down to set his own sunflowers with the others.  Maybe it was best not to think about it too hard, it was that time of year, and Rhys was not a big fan of the spooky season.