Tag Archives: grief
In The Final Throes
There is a stutter, briefly, in her mind’s eye — she is looking at him, and yet through him, and she cannot comprehend. There is a sting, a sharp cut to her cheek, shrapnel slicing a red line over pale … Continue reading
We Both Know
He stands there, expectant, alternately demanding and baby-bird, infuriated and frightened, and he looks to me for answers about the heart of his that he gave me for safekeeping, but I have none to give him, as I set it … Continue reading
Waking To These Thoughts
Dreams were still there, still coming, the kind that left him waking in a cold sweat, chilled and petrified, feverish and trembling. The world was terror for him, in the dark moments of waking in the middle of the night, … Continue reading
A Piece Of Him
“Where is she?” “D’know–” The thud echoed wetly in the dark room, and there was a dripping sound as spatter connected with floor and walls. “Where is she?” “Told you, I–” Another thud, but the sound was turning into a … Continue reading
After The Longest Night
After all the wrapping and unwrapping, the lighting and the ribboning and the beauty of the snow and the everything, there will be presents under the tree, and there will be a slightly rounder belly, and more feelings of fluttering … Continue reading