“The worst thing in life is to end up with people who make you feel all alone.”
― Robin Williams
grief
Quote For The Day 1-23-2017
Remember, we are our own griefs, my dear, we are our own happinesses and we are our own remedies.
Quote For The Day 11-15-2016
“Tears are words that need to be written.”
― Paulo Coelho
Quote For The Day 11-14-2016
“Grief is an amputation, but hope is incurable haemophilia: you bleed and bleed and bleed. Like Schrödinger’s cat inside a box you can never ever open.”
― David Mitchell, Slade House
Quote For The Day 11-10-2016
“It makes the other one more precious and also not enough. We have to try to fill not only our own boots but other people’s too…. We have to expand at the moment we feel the most shrunk.”
― Rosamund Lupton, Sister
Daily Post One Word Prompt 7-8-2016
Darkness like silk lies
Down in the depth of my soul.
Never come home again.
Daily Post One Word Prompt – Shadow
The Midnight Hour, Part 5
“I told you, it was an accident.”
“But you were there?”
“Yes.”
“The two of you fought.”
“No… yes…. but only argued. No punches.”
“Only a push.”
“No! No pushes. He fell! He stumbled and fell down the fucking hill.”
“Now, son, the sooner you tell me the truth, the better you’ll feel. Words got heated. You pushed and he fell down the hill. You didn’t mean it. It was an accident, but you pushed him.”
“No!”
“Then who did?”
“Nobody! It was him and me and….”
The Sheriff’s hand tamped down the pause button on the recorder. “You watch what you say about my daughter in here. You understand me, son?”
Bobby nodded, eyes shadowed. The Sheriff started the recording again.
“Tell me again why you two were arguing.”
“Stuff…just stuff. Nothing important.”
“Isn’t it true you were arguing over a girl? You were angry at Mark because he was cutting into your action. Moving in on your girl? Pissed you off.”
“Yes, but….”
“But?”
“We argued. I told you that. Okay, it was over a girl, but I wasn’t that angry.”
“What does ‘that angry’ mean?”
“Angry enough to….”
“Kill him? Mark, your supposed best friend. Push him over the lip of the hill and watch him tumble and fall, watch him hit that rock and break his neck. You stood there and watched him die, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but…”
“Did you go down the hill? Did you even try to see if he was alive or dead?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I could tell.”
“Tell what?”
“He was dead.”
“That’s right. He was dead. You killed your best friend over a girl.”
Far in the distance, the whine of a siren startled the night. Bobby walked out, heading to his car.
Friday Fictioneers – April 22,2016
PHOTO PROMPT © Madison Woods
The barbed wire reminded him of the day Snowflake died. He’d come home from school only to realize the big grey horse wasn’t in the upper paddock; realized he’d forgotten to bring him up that morning. One more time his parents had warned and Snowflake was gone. They’d say he wasn’t responsible enough, but he was. He knew he was. He was!
It was after he’d run to the lower fields, seen the tangle of wire wrapped around the red horse, when he realized they were right.
A Writer's Life 
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