Creative Writing Ink Prompt May 7th 2015
The skies darkened as they lowered the coffin. Suddenly the evening birds stopped singing, the wind stopped blowing, the sun stopped shining. Nature was skipping a beat. He was waiting, in suspense. He dared not draw a breath.
He, was
lying there in that box. He had loved him so much. This morning he
had walked to their favourite place.
Their imposing wooden confidant had welcomed him with gush and mutters,
as it always had. He had sat where they
always sat, and rubbed the porous ash surface of his favourite bench like he
always had. It had all felt terribly
right. And now, as the frame of his soul stalled and froze, as the box
hung between him and the end, all he could think of, like a child for whom
Christmas has been spoiled, was how much he would miss this place!
He inspired, turned to the minister and said: "thank
you".
<© asd – 2015>
<© asd – 2015>
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