Monday, October 6, 2014

All Gone

9/26/2014



Death




All Gone

She closed the old man’s eyes. His wife would make her and the neighborhood kids butterscotch blondies. A treat for helping with the small yard or carrying bags. He had talked about soldiers and wars he had seen. In the end the smoke got him. It came down in slow bluish clouds. Everyone ran. Not him. He looked at the skies and knew.

Standing, she reached for the chipped yellow bike. It rested against the crumbled stone wall of her no longer home. She would be the last to leave. All the others ran for safety when they saw the first of the clouds. Harold promised to call. Promised to give her the location to meet. But no call came.

She rode past the safety line until she ached. The mask catching in her hair as she pulled it free from her face. Large gulps of air filling her lungs as she cried for love and butterscotch blondies.

158 words

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